Cowards and Cheese
by Binaryhead
Summary: What happens when you put a selfish, bardic dwarf in a party with a slightly evil, slightly idiotic elven Wizard and expect them to help people and do good deeds? A lot of running away apparently. This is the write up for a dnd campaign that I'm a part of (I'm the dwarf). I thought it would be useful to keep a narative of what's happened.
1. Leaving early to avoid the rush

**A/N I like to use footnotes, this site does not. Whenever you see a number in brackets, e.g. (1), just scroll to the bottom of the page. That is the best solution I can come up with for now, sorry.**

 **Also, this story is now being uploaded on my friend's website, complete with illustrations, supplementary material and better handling of footnotes. I will continue to post here but for those who are curious the site is dixonary .co** **.uk/blog/dnd (without the space, fanfiction doesn't like links).**

 **Leaving early to avoid the rush.**

Cluym, the young, necromantic, elven mage walked into his mentor's room. The old mage had been dead for a while (1) but before he passed he had left a letter for Cluym. As his apprentice looked at his mentor's final words he had difficulty in understanding their meaning. He understood each word's meaning individually, but his mind fogged over as he tried to hold them all in his head together. After ruminating on the letter for a few minutes a word came to his head, Phandalin. Now is a good time to mention that Cluym, despite being a subpar necromantic mage, had an extraordinary ability. If he didn't know something he could get a sense of who would have this missing knowledge. It would be a very useful ability, if Cluym wasn't a bit dim. He was convinced that Phandalin had something to do with mature cheese. He was mistaken, and it wasn't until he had spent many long hours in the library reading through such page turners as 'Cheeses through the ages' and 'Huel's complete guide to cows, milk, and associated dairy products' that he stumbled upon a singular reference to the Phandalin white. A delicate soft cheese invented by Hawk, and named after his place of birth. Now realising his mistake, Cluym packed his belongings and headed out to Phandalin. Well, he headed out to the nearest village to get directions to Phandalin.

Some days later, in the quaint little village of Wyevale, the locals were enjoying quite a show in the tavern. I say 'the' tavern, but Wyevale technically had two. Although the tavern on the eastern side was usually called an alehouse and attracted a more, refined clientele. A bardic hill dwarf had taken up residence and had been drinking since Thursday. Usually, after their coin purse had been drained, the regulars would have chucked the dwarf out. However, this dwarf really knew how to play the harp. The music brought in plenty of custom for the landlord so he reluctantly let the dwarf stay free of charge. The evening was only just beginning but the dwarf had drawn such a crowd that there was barely any standing room left.

Up on stage, Yomada was a bit distracted. After a few moments of silence, the dwarf looked down to see they had been strumming about two foot to the side of their harp. Yomada hopped off their stool, nudged it to the side, and resumed playing mostly where they had left off. Something still bothered them though, it could be the… five; six days of drinking? What day was it again? Well Alan was sitting in the corner and he and his wife had been going through a rough patch recently, they always argued all Monday night so he would end up in the bar on Tuesday. It could have been the six days of drinking, but that was nothing new for Yomada. It could be the harp, something didn't quite feel right. Or maybe it was the notice board (2). A new notice had been added. Yomada stopped mid-chord and stumbled over to have a closer look. After dodging under a few legs, and treading on every foot between the stage and the notice board, Yomada peered to see what was written there. In big bold letters the parchment announced 'BARDS WANTED IN PHANDALIN, LARGE PAYMENT, CONTACT MERRY'. The dwarf stood there swaying for a few moments letting the words become less blurred. They then swung their fist to the right aiming to hit the nearest person on the arm, forgetting the usual height difference between humans and dwarfs. A rather angry looking patron turned around to see who had hit them on the backside.

"Where's this Phlandulum then?" Yomada asked.

"What? Oh, it's up north somewhere." The patron replied turning back to his friends.

"Oh, and who's this Merry?"

The patron sighed, "That guy over in the corner," pointing vaguely in the right direction. Yomada looked along the outstretched arm.

"You mean Alan?"

"No, that's Merry, he put the sign up."

"Right, and where's this Philandrum?"

"Just talk to Merry," the patron grunted as he shoved the dwarf away. Slightly confused, Yomada crossed the tavern.

"Alan! How are you?"

"It's Merry," 'Alan' growled back in a thick Scottish accent.

"Hey Alan, how's the wife? Still having troubles?"

"No, I'm happily married."

"But it's Tuesday, you're in here because you and the missus have fights on Monday."

"It's Thursday and I'm always in here, I'm the landlord."

"Whatever you say Alan, what's this about bards in Philandlinum?"

"It's Merry, and yes, that seems perfect for you. They've opened up a new theatre in Phandalin and they need entertainers to fill the slots. Probably about eight shows a week, and they're willing to pay handsomely. More gold than you've ever earned I'll bet. And the best thing about it is it's about a weeks travel north of here, that means you'll be far away from me."

"That's not a very nice thing to say Alan, after I brought in all these customers for you. But I do like the sound of the gold."

"Merry, and I must admit you know how to play a tune. And these idiots seem to like it for some reason. But even so, it's probably time you moved on else you're likely to be pinned up on the notice board by your ears."

"Right, I don't want to over stay my welcome Alan. I'll leave in the morning," Yomada stumbled away leaving Merry furiously wiping a mug and turned to address the crowded tavern, "Right lads, ladies, and creatures unknown, who wants to go philandering?"

A faint chuckle and some cheering spread through the tavern. Most people went back to their drinks but one well-dressed half elf stepped towards to the drunken dwarf.

"If you mean Phandalin then my cousin and I were heading in that direction," he announced. It was this precise moment, as luck would have it, that Cluym walked through the door. His elf ears tingling.

"Did someone mention Phandalin?" Cluym enquired.

"Aye," answered the half elf, "my cousin and I are…"

"Hey, back off elf. These are my travellers, find your own," Yomada interrupted. A brief verbal scuffle ensued between Cluym and Yomada with a few short jokes and pointy ear references thrown in for good measure. By the end, they had decided that Yomada was too drunk to care and Cluym too persistent to back down, so they would both travel with the half elves and neither of them would be happy about it. Yomada left to continue playing the harp and Cluym stayed to inform the half elf what was happening.

"Um, sure… I guess. Just so long as you both pay for the horse feed. I'm Thogold Silvereye (3), and that's my cousin Cruben by the way. We're merchants. Just thought you'd like to know who you're travelling with," the now slightly bemused half elf said, clearly hinting for Cluym to offer the same information.

"Is the dwarf playing that harp upside down?" Cluym asked. Up on stage Yomada finally realised what had been bothering them, and subtly (4) turned the harp the right way up.

The next few hours passed mostly uneventfully. Yomada pointed Cluym towards Derek on the bar to sort out lodgings overnight. Davey, as he was known to everyone else, took great pleasure in directing the elf to Yomada's room. Music was played, drinks were drunk. A fairly standard night.

After a while, Yomada set about earning some coin before leaving Wyevale. Sure, playing the harp was rewarded with food and lodging but not much money. That is why the dwarf had to resort to some slightly less legal means. Playing the harp taught dextrous, nimble fingers. Being a bard taught charisma and confidence and how to make people like you, or at least be friendly for a short time. And when all else failed a few magic tricks could be used at a pinch. The first mark was a human who obviously couldn't handle their drink too well. Yomada started talking to him and encouraged him to keep drinking, and to keep up appearances the dwarf started drinking from an ornate silver hipflask. Now this hipflask was actually a curious magical item. Any alcohol imbibed from it had double the effect. However, any water drunk from it had a powerful sobering effect. It wasn't long before the human could barely sit up without holding onto the table, yet Yomada had used the hipflask to gain a clear head. It was quite easy to convince the patron to lend Yomada a few coins, of course with the promise of repayment… whenever they next happened to be passing by. A cursory glance of the remaining patrons revealed that everybody was either too sober or too poor to be of any value.

In search of further rewards, Yomada left the inn. Late at night the nearby streets were usually littered with drunkards who had either stumbled out of the inn or who had been thrown out. On this occasion, there was a solitary figure lying face down in the mud. After a thorough check it became clear that this unfortunate soul had either spent all their money on beer, or had already been robbed. Most rogues would cut their losses and move on, but Yomada was a cut above. Under the guise of being a helpful soul, the dwarf helped the man up and escorted him home. It wasn't easy supporting a semi-conscious person a good two foot taller, but the thought of ransacking an empty house kept Yomada going. What Yomada didn't count on was the drunkard still lived with their parents. After stumbling through the door, a half concerned, half annoyed woman came storming down the stairs. Unfazed, Yomada described finding her son and bringing him home. She was so grateful that after the two of them had manhandled her son into bed she produced a small pouch and offered it in reward. Yomada humbly accepted and went to leave, making sure that the woman was sufficiently distracted by her son that she wouldn't notice the dwarf taking a golden chalice that had proudly been displayed on the mantelpiece. Satisfied with the night's ill-gotten gains, Yomada headed back to the tavern whistling a jaunty tune. The merriment quickly left upon seeing the smiling face of Cluym, sat in the corner of what used to be Yomada's room. After a brief, civil discussion (5) they decided that since Cluym only needed to meditate and not sleep, he would take the chair and Yomada could keep the bed. Before going to sleep, Yomada decided to check what was in the pouch and was disappointed to find a fresh batch of heart shaped scones. They tasted wonderful, and were surprisingly filling, but it wasn't quite the monetary reward the dwarf was looking for.

Yomada woke to the sight of Cluym's still smiling face. After an exchange of insults, Cluym went to check on Thogold and Yomada lazily enjoyed a final breakfast on the house. With everything packed and ready, the party made their way to the stables and said a final goodbye to the innkeeper.

"Thanks Alan, it's been fun." As the group left they could faintly hear the words 'It's Merry' rattle through the door. After preparing the cart, and setting up the harp in the back, they were off. The plan was to head north to Phandalin, stopping at the villages on the way to restock supplies. If all went to plan, it shouldn't take much longer than a week (6). The first two days passed without incident. There was some talking interspersed with harp music. Our reluctantly adventurous duo finally learnt things about their travelling companions. The Silvereyes were merchants who travelled frequently from one shore of the Kingdom to another, trading goods until their purse was full and their cart empty. Thogold was the brains of the operation and Cruben was… his cousin (7). They were currently on their way back to Phandalin to fill their cart again before sailing north to Tor. Rumours had been whispered that there had been a change of regime, and the new leaders were trying to get their hands on as much gold as possible in an attempt to line a fortress with it. An odd thing to do of course but when magic, and more importantly large monetary rewards are involved, it's usually best not to ask too many questions. The party also learnt not to trust Cluym with the campfires. His method of lighting them involved a far too powerful 'burning hands' spell that turned a log into a charred matchstick. It was on the morning of the third day that things started to go wrong.

The party arrived at Donregan, the first village on their route, early in the morning. They needed to refill their food supplies, and giving the horses half a day's rest would do them some good. The cart stopped just in front of what served as the main gateway into the village. In years gone by it may have served some defensive purpose, but now it was just three pieces of wood precariously nailed together with the name Donregan barely visible. What could be seen on closer inspection though was the phrase 'the happiest place in the Kingdom' more recently scrawled onto it. Just inside the village boundary was a rickety shack that served as the stables, and as the party approached they noticed someone who appeared to be the stable master.

"Hello, beautiful morning isn't it? We haven't had visitors for a while now," the stable master said, gormlessly grinning at the newcomers. He seemed unusually happy, especially given how early it was, but maybe he was just one of _those_ people. Both Yomada and Cluym were distracted by this chirpy fellow but Thogold, as always, had business on his mind.

"Yes it is, I wonder if you could help us. We're just passing through but we need to restock our food supplies. I don't suppose you could point us to the right person, I'm sure you're busy but there doesn't seem to be anyone else around this early to ask?" This prompted the others to look around. Donregan was by no means a large village, but even so, you would still expect to see a handful of people feeding animals or generally going about their business. Thogold was right though, other than the stable master there were no other signs of life.

"They'll all be down in the tavern I suppose," the stable master replied, still grinning like the Cheshire cat, "I'll take you over to meet them. They'll be thrilled to meet some newts like yourselves."

"In the tavern this early? Now this is my kind of village," Yomada interjected, and cheerfully followed in the direction the stable master was pointing. The others were a bit more concerned, and confused about the 'newt' comment, but decided to follow anyway. As the group wandered down the street towards the pub, a keen eye would have noticed shadows darting between the buildings. Unfortunately: Cruben was watching a butterfly; Thogold was practising his haggling technique in his head; Yomada was too excited about the prospect of an early morning pint or seven; and Cluym was staring the stable master in his eyes. Not the you-are-so-beautiful-do-you-know-a-room-we-could-rent-for-the-night kind of stare but the your-eyes-are glazed-over-in-a-weird-way-and-you-are-inhumanly-happy-are-you-possessed-by-some-malevolent-spirit kind of way. Cluym decided the absolute best way to figure out what was affecting this person was to sneakily cast a charm spell on them and get them to tell all their secrets. In what would become the start of a long sequence of failures for our mostly incompetent duo however, the spell fizzled and did nothing. Pondering on why the spell didn't work was probably the reason Cluym didn't notice the small amounts of movement out of the corner of his eye (8).

"Isn't it a bit early to be in the tavern? And besides, surely not everyone will be in there? A village this big can't possible fit in one building," Thogold enquired.

"Don't worry," the stable master grinned, "Just come with me into the tavern and you'll see."

Yomada was still pleased with the idea of a liquid breakfast. So pleased in fact that the dwarf didn't notice the stable master pushing the group along with a slightly firmer arm. Cluym however, was now very suspicious. He decided to try something a bit more forceful this time and tried to cast a sleep spell on the villager. Not only did this not work again, little did Cluym know this now left him defenceless (9) in a decision he would all too soon come to regret.

"I don't suppose this tavern of yours has any good, strong whisky?" Yomada enquired.

"Of course, I even think they have a bottle or two of some old dwarven whisky," the stable master cheerily said.

At this, the copper piece finally dropped for Yomada. It was notoriously hard to get a hold of dwarven whisky, you usually had to pry a dwarf off the other end. A small village tavern would be very unlikely to have half a bottle, let alone two. The whole party, except Cruben of course, now suspected something was wrong and stopped walking towards the tavern.

"Oh come on, the tavern's just over there. It'll be right fun. We all love newts here," the stable master said still grinning like a madman. It was at this point that Yomada decided to slowly start backing away towards the cart. Realising that the party was not going to cooperate any more, the stable master took a different approach.

"Everybody!" he yelled, "We've got some newts out here!"

A brief moment passed and then a surge of people came storming out of the tavern, all of them chanting the word 'Newts'. It was surprising how many people this tavern could hold, and just how quickly the mob was moving towards the now stunned party. When Thogold and Cluym finally decided to run for it, they found out their survival instincts weren't quite as finely tuned as Yomada's who was a good half a street ahead of them and already running at full pace. It wasn't long before Cruben was swallowed by the mob. One minute he was there, the next he had been replaced by three villagers, all wearing the same grin the stable master had. Thogold was next to be overtaken. He tried his hardest to fend the villagers off, but there were just too many. At the sight of half of his party disappearing into the advancing wall of flesh, Cluym decided to take action. He turned to face the mob and tried to cast a spell, but he realised too late what he had done earlier and instantly regretted wasting those spells on the single villager (10). This small delay was enough for a villager to grab him by the arm. Not known for his physical strength, Cluym was unable to escape the grasp and was soon grabbed by two more villagers. He felt himself being lifted off the floor and then he was consumed by the mass.

Up ahead, Yomada had no idea what had just happened. Turning around to look was a mistake a lot of people made when fleeing, and this dwarf had a lot of experience in running away. Without the delay of worrying about anyone else, Yomada managed to reach the cart and immediately started to get the horses ready for a speedy exit. The mob was gaining fast though and Yomada was forced into taking action. The dwarf started singing a low, rumbling song, channelling the natural magic of the world. As the tempo increased Yomada raised a hand into the air, and as the fanatical villagers approached they were surprised to see the dwarf produce a harp (11) and play a powerful, magical chord of music. A deafening thunder wave emitted from the harp and the villagers were hit by a wall of sound. Half a dozen or so of them were flung backwards into the air, hitting into the villagers behind. However, there were too many of them and in an instant the empty space had been filled. The dwarf was soon surrounded, the sun blocked out by grabbing hands and arms. The last thing Yomada saw was a sea of grinning faces before being carried away.

The party awoke some time later. It was hard to tell how long they had been unconscious, it was still daytime but it had become overcast and the sun was no longer visible. They found themselves in a rather large field that housed a solitary sheep. It most likely used to house more livestock, but now the owner needed the space for the four long banquet tables and the stage, complete with orchestra pit. As you can imagine, this is not what anyone expected to wake up to.

"Ah there you are sleepy heads," the stable master said still grinning, "Sorry about that, some of the guys got a bit too excited. As I said, we haven't had newts round here for ages. You're just in time for the party though."

"So you're not going to kill us then?" Cluym asked hopefully.

"Kill you? Why would we want to do that? You'd miss the party," the stable master answered smiling through every syllable. As if it had been rehearsed meticulously for weeks, the second the stable master said party the villagers from earlier entered the field and started merrymaking. There was singing and dancing, groups talking and laughing, the banquet tables were suddenly filled with piles of delicious food. Everybody was holding either a glass of deep red wine or a tankard of ale. As Cluym watched the feasting he noticed something odd about the food. He tried to concentrate as people took food from the middle of the table, but it felt like his eyes didn't want to watch what was happening. When he finally could focus again the plates in the middle looked untouched, yet everybody sitting at the table had full plates and were merrily eating. The same thing happened with the drinks, people would drink from their glasses but the amount of liquid appeared to remain constant. In Cluym's professional opinion, something was up.

"Quite a party you have here," Yomada remarked, "Do you do this often?"

"Oh we're always partying we are. Why would we do anything else?" the stable master replied.

"And what's with calling us newts?"

"Well that's just a bit of fun, 'new people', 'new-ts'. The guys like it, keeps them happy."

"OK. Final question, I don't suppose you guys like harp music?" said Yomada, always on the lookout for a good audience, "I am a bard of some considerable talent and fame."

"Do we? We love it! Come on, I'll take you to the stage," the stable master said leading Yomada through the crowds, "Hey guys, we've got a bard!" A large cheer went around the field. Up on stage Yomada made a grand show of producing a harp from thin air to raucous applause. The dwarf then went on to play song after song. The villagers were the best audience anyone could ask for. They cheered and applauded at all the correct times. They danced to the uplifting songs and were moved to tears by the sombre ones. Yomada knew on some level that no audience was this good, but didn't really care.

Unlike the villagers, Thogold and Cluym were not having a very good time. They had heard Yomada's full repertoire several times on the way here and were sick of it. They decided to use this time to try and find out what had happened in this village. All they could get from the locals though was that about six months ago, 'the party' started. Around that time their leaders left and the population slowly started to fall as others left as well. Whenever anyone new arrived they were invited to join in 'the party' and that's all that anyone who lived here did nowadays. Despite their unusual welcoming method, the villagers actually seemed relatively harmless. Cluym decided that it was probably best not to consume any of the food or drink, just in case.

When Yomada had finished playing for the villagers (12), Thogold caught them up on what he had found out. After a brief discussion, the group decided that it was probably safe to just walk out and leave, but just to make sure Yomada had an idea.

"Friends," the dwarf said, addressing the villagers, "it is your lucky day. My friends and I are actually a travelling troupe of world famous actors. I know, it is hard to believe that one dwarf can be so talented but I am no ordinary dwarf. We were just passing by your quaint little village on our way to the opening performance of our new play. However, I have managed to convince my fellow performers to give you all a little preview. We just need to quickly go back to our cart and change into our costumes, but we'll be right back. Keep the stage warm!"

A large cheer rose up and people starting moving chairs towards the stage as the four travellers snuck out at a brisk pace. Once they left the field they headed straight for the village square. The tavern the villagers had poured out of earlier was on the corner of the square, so they figured they could find their way back to the cart from there. As they approached it though a figure popped into existence directly in the middle. He was an old looking man, wearing a bright red robe with a pointy hat. He briefly looked around before spying the group and headed towards them.

"Have you seen my daughter? I haven't seen her in a few days," the old man asked.

"Um, no, can't say that we have. We only arrived here this morning, sorry," Yomada replied, continuing to back away slowly towards the cart.

"Oh well, if you see her tell her that I'm looking for her," the old man turned around and started walking away, "I don't know where she could have gotten to." He continued to mumble to himself until he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. Eager to avoid any further delays, the group picked up the pace to a jog (13). They had almost reached the stables when Thogold had a realisation.

"We've got a problem. We stopped here to restock, we don't have any food left." After a quick think, and a lot of swearing, it was decided that they would investigate the large houses on the outskirts of the village and try to scavenge as much food as possible. In an unexpected show of bravery, Cluym volunteered to be the first to enter and rummage through a house. He hadn't had a good day so far and secretly wanted to try and prove his worth.

The door to the first house they approached was slightly ajar. Cluym slowly creaked the door open and peered into the dim house. A few minutes later he determined that nothing living was inside the first room and finally entered the house. There were no obvious signs of food, but the next room appeared to be the kitchen. Cluym took a few steps towards it and suddenly froze when he heard an ear shattering crash just over his shoulder. This was quickly followed by a loud guffaw from Yomada, who had obviously thought it would be very funny to cast a minor auditory illusion to scare Cluym. However, the noise also startled something in the kitchen, and a scuffle of movement could be heard coming through the doorway. Not wishing to blindly enter a room with an unknown creature, Cluym decided to be smart and use some magic. He conjured a spectral hand in mid-air and floated it into the kitchen (14). Using the disembodied hand, he was able to root around the cupboards and find a crusty loaf of bread. Spoils in floating hand, Cluym made a quick exit. Outside he was quite pleased with a job well done, that was until Thogold broke it in half to reveal that the elf had actually looted a crusty loaf of mould.

"When did you say 'the party' started? Six months ago?" Yomada enquired. "I'm guessing there may not be any edible food left." The group stood in the middle of the street for a while, thinking what to do, when they finally noticed what they should have done upon entering the village. Darting between the shadows, squinting whenever the sunlight hit them, were small groups of kobolds. These small, reptilian humanoids were scavengers, living off whatever they could find that seemed vaguely edible. This sometimes included bark and dirt. A mostly abandoned village would have provided a five star meal for these creatures, and they had clearly made themselves at home here.

"I'm really getting sick of this place. There's not going to be anything left here and Wyevale is only two days away. It may not be the nicest journey but it will be better than staying here any longer." Before getting a response, Yomada headed off to the stables. The others reluctantly agreed that it was probably for the best and followed. Unfortunately, when they reached the stables they were greeted by a pack of six kobolds foraging through their cart.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Cluym asked.

"You're a wizard right, I don't suppose you can create a large amount of light? They didn't seem to like the sunlight, maybe we can scare them away," Yomada suggested.

"I've got just the thing, leave it to me," Cluym sneaked over to the cart out of sight of the kobolds. He placed a hand on the front of the cart and it instantly started to emit a pale light (15). This did have an effect on the kobolds, but not the desired one. Now that they could see what they were doing a bit better, their foraging increased speed. It turned out that kobolds very specifically didn't like sunlight, any other form of light was fine.

"Any other brilliant ideas?"

"We could try fighting them, but I doubt you're any good with a sword, and if I cast a thunder wave it will destroy the cart."

"There are two horses and only two of us," Cluym whispered conspiratorially, "We could just take the horses and ride out of here."

"What, and leave our companions out here alone with no food or a means of escape and surrounded by vicious creatures? I like the way you think, sounds like a good way out of here. Leave this one to me." Yomada wandered over to Thogold.

"Right, we've got no choice but to fight. If we spread out and circle the cart, hopefully we can surround and confuse them. Now of course, we don't want the horses to get hurt so Cluym and I will move them away from the cart first. You head towards the back and keep an eye on the kobolds. When the horses are safe, we will wait for you to distract them and we will attack from behind." Yomada had spent a lifetime learning how to read people and lie convincingly. After travelling together Thogold had learnt to trust Yomada, which was a big mistake. He followed the dwarf's plan to the letter, and patiently watched as they moved the horses away from the combat zone… and kept moving them… and kept moving them some more… and then mounted the horses. And then kicked himself very hard.

Far away from the kobolds, Yomada and Cluym were quite pleased with themselves. It was as they were riding as fast as the horses would go, however, that our cowardly duo first suspected that Thogold was more than just a merchant. The first clue was the arrow that suddenly appeared in Yomada's shoulder. The second clue, and admittedly it was quite a large clue, was Thogold shouting, "I'm a ranger you bastards, we could have easily fought these kobolds and killed them. Now bring those horses back!" It made sense when they thought about it, transporting a cart filled with valuable goods must have been quite dangerous. The only reason Yomada hadn't tried to take the cart earlier was Thogold was the only one who knew where Phandalin was and he wouldn't let Yomada look at the map. It made sense that he would be competent with some form of weaponry, it was just their bad luck it happened to be a bow. This was when Yomada finally resolved to talk to any potential future companions, if only to find out if it were safe to stab them in the back figuratively without being stabbed in the back literally in return.

It was a gruelling couple of days that followed. Yomada had managed to patch up the arrow shaped hole with a healing word or two, but it still hurt a fair bit. The two kept their eyes open for any small animals they could catch and eat, but neither of them were any good at hunting. They spent most of their time in painful, starving silence fuelled only by cowardice and determination to make it back to the comfort of a tavern in Wyevale. Not Alan's (16) tavern of course, that would be a bit dangerous. Fortunately, Yomada knew a few of the locals at the 'alehouse' and was sure that fancy people would love a harpist even more than the rabble at Alan's place.

The duo were a couple of hours' ride from Wyevale when their progress was forcibly stopped. The narrow road into the village was flanked by densely packed trees, this meant that travellers looking to pass had to negotiate carefully. Heading towards the dwarf and the elf was an eight deep convoy of caravans, escorted and flanked by riders with a tail of people walking behind. It was an impressive sight, and it obviously housed someone very rich and powerful, but it was also standing between two weary travellers and their first chance of food in over two days.

"Look, you're not as experienced with people as I am so just leave the talking to me," Yomada said, edging his horse forward a few paces, "Hail travellers, I'm sure you have important business to get to. I am but a simple bard and this is my… travelling companion. We are just looking to reach yonder village and procure some much-needed nourishment. We do not wish you any delay, so if you would hold for just a moment and let us pass we will be on our way."

"Why are you talking like that?" Cluym said indiscreetly.

"Shut up." The two started squabbling again. The elven driver of the lead caravan sat, confusedly watching the pair. After a while he picked up a lengthy scroll of parchment from the seat next to him. He unrolled it and tried his best to read what was written.

"The High Priestess of… of Tor re… requires and and requests your presence. Please dismount your stee… horses and join the presses… the precisi… the preseas… the people at the back."

"Well that is a gracious offer, and please extend our warmest thanks to the High Priestess, but unfortunately we have urgent business elsewhere and it is not possible for us to attend," Yomada respectfully declined, not wishing to go back to Donregan for numerous reasons. The driver looked bemused and returned to the parchment.

"Please dismount your horses. Do not worry, they will be cared for. We only wish for you to join us on our journey," the driver replied, this time with a little more confidence. Yomada thought a change of tack might provide better results.

"Don't I know you?" (17) The driver shuffled in his seat and looked back at the scroll.

"The High Priestess of Tor requires and requests…"

"Yeah, I know you. You're Alan's son."

"The High Priestess…" the driver started again in vain.

"How is Alan doing nowadays. Does he miss me much?"

"I don't know anyone named Alan. I am Eridan Tarmish, son of Merry, the innkeeper at Wyevale."

"That's the guy, is he still having problems with his wife?"

"My parents are happily married and have been for many years," Eridan said confused.

"Well I'm glad to hear it. It was great catching up but we really need to get going so if you would just let us by," Yomada tried hopefully.

"Yes, and we really don't want to go back the way you're heading. We stole these horses from some merchants back there and left them to be eaten by kobolds," Cluym chimed in (18). Both Eridan and Yomada were stunned into silence. The dwarf recovered quickest.

"What my simple-minded friend means is that we used these horses that belong to **our** party to escape the dangerous village up ahead to find aid in rescuing our friends. As you can imagine this is quite an important task so we must get on our way."

"You called me friend," Cluym said equally surprised and delighted. Eridan stared from one to the other and then reluctantly put his scroll down.

"Look, I've been paid good money to drive this caravan and to read from this scroll to anyone who we meet on the way. Can you please just do as you've been asked?" Yomada heard the desperation and frustration in Eridan's voice and decided to take it easy on him. Besides, there was one more trick the dwarf could try.

"I beg an audience with the High Priestess of Tor!" (19) A visible wave of relief washed over Eridan's face.

"Yes of course, she's in the caravan behind this one," as he said that a rather large, well-armed guard opened the door to the caravan behind his. Yomada instantly regretted asking to speak with an obviously very powerful and, most likely, quick to anger High Priestess, surrounded by walking suits of armour holding very pointy blades.

"Just one quick question, what race is the High Priestess? Just so I know the correct curtesy."

"Oh, she's an elf. A very beautiful elf," Eridan said with a grin.

"Why am I surrounded by elves everywhere I go?" Yomada mumbled whilst dismounting. Cluym followed suit, but stayed a cautious few steps behind. The dwarf approached the opened door and bowed low, avoiding looking at the High Priestess out of respect.

"Your highness, I have some grave news about the road you travel and humbly request that we may speak so that I can warn you."

"Welcome," a fair voice drifted out of the caravan, "Thank you for the warning, please enter and we shall discuss this matter."

Following the invitation, Yomada finally looked up and saw the High Priestess, a beautifully enchanting dwarf. This took Yomada by surprise.

"Is there a problem traveller?" the High Priestess asked, noticing the hesitation.

"Well, it's just that your driver up front said you were an elf. I wasn't expecting to be greeted by such a beautiful dwarf." Upon hearing this Cluym peaked round the door and was also taken by surprise.

"What do you mean, she is an elf?" The High Priestess simply sat smiling, motioning for them to enter.

"This is going to be interesting," Yomada said, and entered the caravan.

1 The cause seemed natural but some say it was due to his massive disappointment in his apprentice.

2 Now, if I'm being honest, notice board is a slightly poetic way of describing a flat-ish section of wall that people stuck parchment to with knives. The landlord had tried to stop people from using the 'notice board' but he had been thus far unsuccessful due to poor timing. Asking muscle bound drunkards whose height far outstretched their IQ not to do something whilst they are still holding their knife is not usually advised.

3 The one thing Cluym and Yomada did have in common, other than a desire to go to Phandalin, was neither of them were any good at asking for or remembering names. As you can imagine this would get them into trouble on quite a few occasions.

4 As subtle as a drunken dwarf that's manoeuvring a harp a foot taller than them can. That is to say only seven drinks were spilled, one foot crushed and three separate bar fights started.

5 In other words, a half hour shouting match that ended when 'Alan' burst in and informed them that he would throw them out if they didn't shut up and, once again, that his name was Merry.

6 If all went to plan though, there would be no story to tell.

7 The best way to describe Cruben was he had both the intelligence, and personality, of a puppy but the body of a half shaved grizzly bear.

8 It is a common belief in these parts that there is no free will and everything that happens is dictated by the gods. Criminals try, and fail, quite often to use this as an excuse for their actions. It is however, fundamentally incorrect. The gods, like anyone else, only want to be entertained. There is no fun if you know what is going to happen so the gods merely set things in motion. Whichever god set these events in motion was currently slapping themselves on their forehead in dismay at how imperceptive Yomada and Cluym could be.

9 Wizards are quite often found accompanying adventurous parties, brought along for their impressive spell casting abilities. These powerful spells come in quite handy in battle to either protect allies or smite foes. The one downside to wizards though is that casting spells takes a lot of energy. Most wizards can only cast a few spells before they need a long rest to recover the spent energy. At this point, given their affinity for staying indoors and reading books, they become as useful in battle as knitted, woollen chainmail; if you're lucky they will get in the way of an enemy's sword and extend your life for a whole two seconds.

10 Told you so.

11 This is a subject that has needed to be addressed for a while. How does a 4 foot 3 dwarf transport a 5 foot 4 harp around, let alone deftly produce it in the middle of a battlefield. The short answer is magic. The long answer is a cheaper version of a 'bag of holding', a magical item that opens up into a pocket dimension and thus can hold more within than it looks like it can without, that curiously, yet purposefully, can only store harps and sewed into the inner lining of Yomada's jacket, hence called a 'pocket of harping'. This, combined with a fair amount of dexterity, years of practise, and more bruises from failed attempts than can be remembered; creates quite a spectacle when successfully pulled off and more often than not is more useful in surprising the enemy than it is for its aid in casting magical spells. But most people just stick with the short answer.

12 Well, after the three standing ovations and four encores.

13 More of a sprint for Yomada's shorter legs.

14 Before you start complaining about continuity errors, there are different levels of magic. Cantrips are simple spells that any magically inclined being can cast at will. Basically, a cantrip is like a street magician producing a coin from behind your ear and a spell is like a Vegas duo sawing a woman in half. This was a cantrip, Cluym still couldn't cast spells.

15 Another cantrip, you're not going to catch me out that easily.

16 "It's Merry!"

17 Even though they don't physically exist in every reality, the spirit of a call centre is a universal constant. There is always someone, somewhere, desperately trying to get a complete stranger to agree to something they don't want by simply following a script written by a third party with a very limited imagination of how a conversation could go. Yomada instinctively knew that the best thing to do was to steer the conversation completely away from where the seller wanted it to be.

18 You remember I said Yomada wasn't very good at getting to know the people he travelled with and that this got him into trouble quite often. Well Cluym had an odd quirk where he was completely unable to lie, and the thieving, cheating, lying bardic dwarf had chosen to team up with him.

19 In other words, "Can I speak to your manager?"


	2. There, back, and there again

**There, back, and there again.**

 _Yomada was on stage, in the middle of a deep bow, but the audience was deadly silent. Sat in a private box on the side of the balcony was the stony-faced Lord of the city. All eyes in the theatre were on him. The evening's entertainment had started well, and the hint of a smile had even flashed briefly on the Lord's face, but any trace of mirth was long gone. The first joke at his expense was taken in good humour, the remaining, relentless satire was taken less favourably. The Lord slowly rose from his seat and pointed at Yomada._

" _Arrest that impudent actor on the charges of inciting civil unrest and treason. Schedule their execution for tomorrow at dawn, let's see if they manage to draw a larger audience than tonight's farce."_

 _The city guards were caught by surprise. A small contingent always followed the Lord, but it was mostly for show. Being guard to the Lord was a much sought after job, because you got to attend all the fancy events and had to do next to nothing in return. Up until now their hardest task had been stifling their laughs at the play that they had found quite entertaining. Whilst the guards fumbled around trying to rush down the narrow staircase from the private box, Yomada made a quick exit stage right and fled from the theatre. It was on the way out of the city, hiding uncomfortably in the back of a farmer's cart full of turnips, that the dwarf decided to never deal with Nobility again._

Yomada distractedly shuffled along the seat opposite the High Priestess, trying to maintain a respectful distance but staying within fleeing range of the door. Cluym, who was more sceptical, stayed outside the caravan peering in.

"What is this troubling news that you carry?" the High Priestess enquired, snapping Yomada out of their reverie.

"Ah, yes. Um. The village that you are heading towards, Donregan, there's something going on there," Yomada paused, observing the High Priestess's quizzical look. "I mean the villagers appear to be charmed in some manner and the place is mostly abandoned, save for vicious roaming hordes of kobolds. Oh, and there was this old guy in red who just appeared and disappeared. He said he was looking for his daughter but he might have had something to do with what was happening in the village. Regardless, I suggest that you give the village a wide bearth."

"That sounds like a member of the Order of the Red. I doubt they have done anything untoward, but I would be interested in talking to them. As for the kobolds and charmed villagers, that is troubling news indeed. Thank you for warning us. I'm glad that we have two knowledgeable travellers such as yourselves joining our convoy." The High Priestess continued to smile sweetly. Most people would have described it as an innocent smile, but Yomada knew better.

"Yes, about that, my friend and I have some very important business to take care of in Wyevale. We saw the direction that you were travelling and felt honour bound to warn you, but we really must continue on our journey."

"Oh, but first you must tell my Maester everything you know about the troubles that lie ahead." Somehow, with no obvious means of being summoned, a tall, well-built man in a scrupulously neat uniform appeared behind Cluym leaving him no option but to finally enter the caravan. Once everyone was inside, the Maester firmly shut the door.

"These fine adventurers have suggested that we avoid the next village due to an infestation of kobolds and potentially related magical goings on. However, I'm sure that with their help our guards will be able to handle whatever lies ahead, don't you agree?" The High Priestess looked to her Maester who very briefly nodded, without breaking eye contact with the newcomers.

"There will probably be a very annoyed ranger and his cousin there as well, if they weren't killed, looking for his horses that we stole," Cluym chimed in.

"The party'shorses that we were using to get help," Yomada corrected.

"Well everything has worked out perfectly then. You can accompany us if you wish to Donregan where you can sort out the matter of the ownership of the horses with your friends." Yomada knew this was less of an offer and more of a statement of what was going to happen. Begrudgingly, the dwarf accepted their fate.

"Talking about our friends, they mentioned that there had been some… political changes in Tor and that now there is a high demand for gold," Yomada ventured, always looking to make the best of a bad situation. "Maybe I could be of some help." At the mention of gold, the High Priestess became visibly intrigued.

"Do you have any?" She asked a little forcibly.

"Well I do have this," Yomada said producing the golden chalice they had 'obtained' in Wyevale, "I'm sure you can have it for a…" Before the dwarf could finish the sentence, the golden chalice started to float towards the High Priestess. She held up a hand and gently touched the tip of a finger against the chalice. Yomada watched in dismay as it vanished, and subtly positioned their coin purse out of sight. The High Priestess looked at the dwarf like nothing had happened.

"Yes, well, I'm glad to be of service," Yomada decided on a different approach, "I don't suppose you have any food? We've had a few rough days of travel without rest or nourishment and I'm famished."

"Only because we didn't take the bread that I found," Cluym interjected, still hurt that his efforts had been for nothing.

"Of course we do," the High Priestess said ignoring the elf, "I'll instruct the quartermaster to bring you some refreshments from our stocks." As soon as she finished speaking there was a polite knock on the door. The Maester opened it to reveal someone holding a joint of ham in one hand and a tankard of ale in the other. Yomada greedily accepted the food, downing the ale in one and letting out a loud belch. Very briefly, a look of disgust crossed the High Priestess's face before returning to the sickly-sweet smile (1).

"Well then, I'm sure the quartermaster can show you both to a berth in one of the caravans. If you'll leave us now, I have much to discuss with my Maester." Yomada and Cluym exited the caravan, quite relieved to still be in one piece.

"She stole your chalice," Cluym said.

"No, I used the chalice to gain favour with a clearly very powerful potential ally, and most importantly to obtain food and drink," Yomada replied through a large mouthful of ham.

"I didn't get any food," Cluym grumbled.

Over the coming days, our duo attempted to learn from previous mistakes and took the time to get to know the people in the convoy. Admittedly, Cluym grew bored of this very quickly and dedicated most of his time to meditation and practising arcane rituals. Yomada, on the other hand, enjoyed having an audience again, and what's more, most of the convoy had been recruited in Wyevale so they were already acquainted with the bard's work. From talking to old friends (2) Yomada learnt that three days after the party had left, the High Priestess arrived in Wyevale. She was looking to recruit followers of all kind; guards, cooks, stable hands, with the promise of payment upon reaching Tor. They had each been promised as much money as they would earn in half a year, but curiously only in silver and copper pieces. This last piece of information made the dwarf clutch their coin purse, filled with gold pieces, even tighter.

There was one downside to being surrounded by Wyevale residents, Yomada had managed to annoy quite a few of them in a short amount of time. One such unfortunate example was Davey, the barkeep at Merry's tavern. It turns out that it was his son that Yomada had escorted home in a drunken stupor. Davey hadn't noticed the missing chalice, but he was interested to know how Yomada had ended up with some of his wife's special, heart shaped scones. The dwarf managed to handle the situation with great charm and tact, although Davey wasn't best pleased about the jokes concerning his wife's incredible prowess in the bedroom. These were jokes that Yomada may not have made if they'd known that Davey was in charge of serving food to the members of the convoy. Luckily, the bard had been sharing war stories with a dwarven guard (3), and using some small amount of magic, was able to convincingly disguise themselves as the guard long enough to get some food.

Unaware of Yomada's hijinks, Cluym had been working on a project of his own. He had decided quite early on that he didn't trust the High Priestess, something about being forced into joining her group without any mention of payment just didn't sit right with him. He was also curious about something Yomada had said - the dwarf had seen another 'dwarf' sitting in the caravan when she was clearly an elf. Rather than confront her directly about this (4), the mage had decided to spy on her. After some thought, and intensive reading, Cluym had prepared a ritual to summon a familiar. One night, whilst most people were asleep, he sneaked out into the nearby woods and started to perform the summoning. After ten minutes of concentration a small white light appeared, floating a few feet in front of him. As the mage watched, he saw the light slowly expand and take on the shape of a small brown sparrow. The sparrow flew over to his shoulder and tweeted.

"I think I'll call you sparrow," Cluym said, not being very inventive. On his way back towards camp, Cluym noticed that there were lights still on in the High Priestess's tent. Thinking this was a perfect opportunity to try and sneak some information, the elf found a decent hiding place and instructed his familiar to fly towards the tent.

Familiars and their masters share a magical bond. They are telepathically linked, hence the master can command the familiar with ease and control it almost as an extension of themselves. Furthermore, if the master concentrates, they can see through the familiar's eyes. This can be quite a disorienting experience for someone who has never used these magical powers before, because rather than just seeing what the familiar sees, the master experiences the world as if they were that creature. The master loses the use of all of their own senses and gain the familiar's. Experiencing the world as an animal is an unsettling thing, they act and think on instinct. They see what people see, but rather than labelling things with names they just know on a primal level if the thing is edible or dangerous or useful.

A few minutes later, when Cluym had somewhat become accustom to this new perspective on the world, he sent sparrow to carefully peer into the doorway of the tent. The tent was elaborately decorated with fine silver ornaments and purple silk cushions. There was a large, oak desk with papers strewn across it; a delicately painted room partition; there was even a four-poster bed. As sparrow watched intently, he saw movement from behind the partition. A small creature flew over towards the bed. Cluym urged sparrow to get a closer look, but as soon as the bird crossed the threshold a strong gust of wind blew the familiar away from the tent with such force that it broke Cluym's concentration and he snapped back into his own consciousness.

Eager to inform Yomada of what he had discovered, Cluym rushed over to where the dwarf was sleeping. By now he had learnt that Yomada was usually a very heavy sleeper, but he had one trick up his sleeve. The elf reached for Yomada's coin purse.

"Ger yer hanns off mi gol… mi money you stinking elf."

"Yomada, I've got to tell you something. I just had a look in the High Priestess's tent and…" Cluym stopped mid-sentence. Yomada watched as thorned vines grew around the elf and ensnared him. As they restrained Cluym, he drooped forwards unconscious, revealing an arrow lodged in his back. The vines appeared to have grown out of the arrow itself. Yomada sprang into action.

"Guards! We need guards out here, we're under attack."

"Don't move you despicable thief," a voice carried out from the trees behind the limp body of Cluym. Yomada recognised the voice and, squinting, he saw the silhouette of Thogold in the distance, bow drawn, arrow notched.

"Guards, help!" Yomada yelled, not too happy about the reunion. Thogold took a few more steps towards the dwarf, but stopped when he saw four armoured guards running in their direction.

"Who are they?" Thogold asked, clearly not expecting anyone else to be around. Yomada pounced on the moment of confusion, always the opportunist.

"Thogold, thank Olidammara (5) you're alive. When we saw the situation was hopeless in Donregan, we rode as fast as we could to get help. We found this convoy and convinced them to aid us in your rescue," Yomada lied. Thogold looked very dishevelled, he clearly had barely survived in the wilderness up until now and was probably just relieved to see people again. If it meant a safe place to rest and have some food, he was willing to believe anything the dwarf said.

"What is all this commotion?" The High Priestess, who had heard all of the shouting, had decided to see what had happened.

"Ah, your highness. This is one of the friends I was telling you about. There was a brief misunderstanding but we've sorted everything out now." Yomada turned to Thogold, "Thogold, this charming half elf, I'm assuming for you, is the High Priestess of Tor."

At the mention of being a half elf, the High Priestess gave the dwarf a curious look. Thogold immediately dropped to the floor in an overly complicated bow. Satisfied that everything was fine, the High Priestess turned back to her tent.

"If there are no problems then I suggest you all return to your beds, quietly. Oh, and you should probably tend to your friend," the High Priestess motioned in the direction of Cluym. Following orders, the guards returned to their posts.

"Get up you fool, she's left," Yomada told Thogold, "Where's Cruben?"

"He's talking to a squirrel over there somewhere."

"Sounds like Cruben. Why did you shoot us?"

"It was only a warning shot. It wasn't supposed to knock him out." Thogold pulled on the arrow in Cluym's back and the vines retreated. Yomada used a few healing words to patch the elf up, and they all settled down for some well-earned rest.

It was mid-afternoon of the next day when the convoy reached the gateway to Donregan. The village looked just as deserted as when the party had first arrived. Thogold's cart was still parked in the stables, sans contents and slightly nibbled. Taking heed of Yomada's warning, the High Priestess had decided to stay in her caravan and sent the guards ahead with the dwarf and the elf. Feeling braver now there was a wall of eight armoured guards to hide behind if necessary, Yomada boldly strode ahead into the village. The bard spotted two kobolds hiding in the shadows next to the closest house. With more showmanship than truly necessary, Yomada produced their harp and created another deafening thunderwave. Not only were the two kobolds killed upon impact and thrown backwards, but the corpses of another four kobolds that had been hiding just around the corner, also flew backwards.

"Well that was easy," Yomada said surprised, "I guess we could have easily dealt with them the last time we were here. Oh well, you live and you learn don't you Thogold?"

Thogold glared at the dwarf. Not wanting to be outdone, and armed with the knowledge that kobolds weren't actually that strong, Cluym set out to even the kill count. He bravely charged into the house the kobolds had been hiding near, and spent the next twenty minutes meticulously assuring the house was empty. Meanwhile outside, the guards and Yomada found some more kobolds further into the village. These ones acted quicker than their fallen friends and got a few good stabs in on the dwarven guard by swarming around him. This just made it easier for the guard to kill them in one great swing of his battle axe. After the last few stragglers were diced, sliced, squashed and impaled; Cluym emerged from the house triumphant.

"Don't worry guys, there aren't any kobolds (6)."

Attracted by the commotion, the stable master appeared to greet the newcomers. Even though he was still clearly unnaturally happy, he had enough sense to not call the High Priestess a newt. As a few guards helped to patch up their injured comrade, the rest escorted the High Priestess as she was led towards the tavern. Yomada and Cluym, for want of something better to do, tagged along at the back. Yomada was still a little annoyed by their last visit here and how they had managed to not notice basically everything. To make up for this, the dwarf was scrutinising every shadow, every slight movement and the way to the tavern. This vigilance paid off. Nestled between two houses was a staircase leading down into what appeared to be a small, underground storage room.

"Hey, you! Guard person. There's a hole over there that looks like a perfect kobold hiding place. Don't you think you should check it out?" Yomada said addressing the nearest guard.

"If you want a look down there go ahead, I'm fine right here thanks," the guard replied. Yomada had spent a lot of time around humans, and had quickly learnt how to manipulate them.

"Alright, but it's your job to protect the High Priestess and I'm sure she wouldn't be happy if she was ambushed by kobolds from behind. Especially if a certain guard could have easily prevented such an attack."

"Fine," the guard sighed, the dwarf's goading playing on his sense of duty. He walked over to the staircase and took a few steps downwards. "It's too dark down there, one of you two check it out (7)."

"Don't worry, I can fix that," Cluym, not too pleased at the prospect of being surrounded underground by kobolds, stepped towards the guard and touched his sword. It instantly started to emit a bright light. Not expecting his sword to be turned into a torch, the guard dropped it in shock. "There you go, lead the way. We'll be right behind you."

The guard cautiously picked up his sword and slowly edged down the stairs, waving it in front of himself. Cluym followed a good ten steps behind. Yomada stood at the top of the stairs waiting to hear either the all clear or screams of agony. As the guard approached a doorway, he saw a lone kobold standing just inside. He swung his sword at the creature, but missed drastically, the glare from his sword throwing off his aim. The kobold, surprised and squinting at the light, tried to stab at the guard in return but also missed by quite a margin. Wanting to gain some glory through combat, Cluym rushed into the room. This was unwise, something that he learnt upon seeing the five other kobolds, aiming their slings in his direction. He backed out behind the guard and yelled up the stairs to Yomada.

The dwarf was faced with a choice; rush in to help against an unknown foe and potentially get overwhelmed, or risk the lives of Cluym and the guard by going to get help. It was actually quite an easy choice, Yomada ran towards the guards still protecting the High Priestess who were just about to enter the tavern. To speed up getting reinforcements, the bard used a simple magical trick to project a voice demanding aid. The guards looked towards Yomada, who was waving furiously and pointing towards the staircase. They got the hint and three of them went to investigate.

Always the hero, Yomada let the guards rush in first and, of course, stood a distance behind them to not hamper their combat skills. This should have been a good plan, the guards up front fighting the kobolds while Yomada and Cluym stood behind giving magical support. In fact it did work for a while, the guards managed to slice a few of the attackers and Cluym distracted the others by throwing balls of fire and bubbles of acid, all the while Yomada was using powerful words and melodies to inspire the party to greater feats of strength. This all came to an abrupt halt when three rays of fire came hurling at Cluym from behind the kobolds. The elf was momentarily engulfed in flame, and as the fires dissipated he fell to the ground unconscious. Looking towards where the fire had emanated from, Yomada saw one of the kobolds who was holding back. This one looked slightly taller, stronger and most likely the leader of the kobolds. It had shiny trinkets dangling all over its clothing, signifying both its higher status and its spell casting abilities.

This greatly changed the shape of the battle, up until now it had been fairly easy but the kobolds seized the opportunity to attack with the enemy wizard downed. Even after Yomada revived Cluym with a soothing song, the fight was more of a struggle. Blades reflected the light of fire being thrown into the melee from both sides. Nobody could get the upper hand. Yomada knew the kobold sorcerer needed to be taken down quickly. The dwarf tried to think of something they could do to stop the kobold from casting spells, but there was nothing the bard could do. Then, a moment of inspiration came to Yomada. Remembering what had happened earlier, the dwarf started a new song. This was uncharted territory, the bard was pulling words and chords from the natural forces surrounding them, desperately trying to recreate a spell they had seen earlier. With an almighty crescendo Yomada pointed at the sorcerer and… nothing happened. In frustration, Yomada picked up a dagger one of the other kobolds had dropped and threw it at their leader. The blade hit the kobold in the chest and vines sprung out from the wound, wrapping the kobold into a tight ball (8).

Usually, spells have a somatic component. A series of gestures that need to be made, that become impossible to perform when encased by vines. What Yomada didn't know was that this particular kobold only needed to concentrate to cast spells. The battle continued much as before, but the kobold's numbers had dwindled, and when the guards reached the sorcerer it couldn't put up any resistance to their attacks. With the kobold leader about to draw its last breath, Cluym's familiar, sparrow, flew over to it and landed on its shoulder. The ghostly image of a hand briefly appeared where the bird had landed and a wave of coldness spread through the sorcerer, finally killing it.

Relieved, the party relaxed and checked to make sure everyone was alright. They were all carrying injuries, some more severe than others. One unfortunate guard was lying face down on the floor, dead. His companions circled around his body on their knees, grieving.

In the corner where the sorcerer had been was a large pile of metal objects. This was where the kobolds had hoarded the items they had scavenged from the village. Just a cursory glance was enough to see that there was plenty of gold in the pile. Attracted by the promise of wealth, Cluym went to investigate.

"Did you see that?" Yomada exclaimed, "That spell I cast was amazing. I took care of the big threat so you guys could finish off the rest. I tell you, songs will be written about today. Mostly by me, but once the word gets out there… instant folk tale I'm telling you. The heroic bard saves the day."

The guards were staring at Yomada with a look that said the dwarf should probably shut up. Seeing the hatred in their eyes, Yomada thought it would be a good idea to give them some space and tell the High Priestess what had happened, hopefully getting into her good books by leading her to the gold personally. The dwarf set off towards the tavern, giving the guards a wide berth.

Over by the pile, Cluym wasn't having much luck. There were forks and plates, odd pieces of metal that had once belonged to something, but nothing of value. Sure there was gold, but he didn't want to risk hiding it from the High Priestess. He could sense something though. He could feel the faint presence of magic coming from inside the pile. It took him a little bit of digging before the elf managed to extract a golden ring. It was a simple band without markings, but he could tell it had some magical properties. As Cluym heard Yomada returning, with the High Priestess in tow, he hid the ring in a pocket.

"… and then I valiantly risked life and limb to cast a powerful spell strong enough to take the sorcerer down and secure its hoard of gold for you. I did tell you about the spell didn't I?"

The High Priestess had stopped paying attention to Yomada after the first mention of gold. She walked over to one of the guards, who seemed to have taken the death harder than the rest, and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. She knelt down beside him and started to pray over the body. The guards bowed their heads. At the end of her prayer, the High Priestess placed her hand on the dead guard's forehead and a wave of pale light spread outwards, filling the room for a moment. As the light washed over the people in the room, their injuries began to heal and fade.

The High Priestess stood and walked over to the pile of metal in the corner. She raised her hands and the pile began to float a few feet off the floor. Cluym, who was standing not far behing the High Priestess, could feel the ring vibrating in his pocket. A faint pop echoed around the room as roughly half the pile vanished. The remaining metal floated back down to the floor and silently came to rest. Cluym's ring became motionless. On her way out of the room, the High Priestess instructed the guards to take the body back to the convoy and then to meet her in the tavern.

"What do you want us to do?" Yomada asked. The High Priestess didn't acknowledge the question and left. Cluym approached the guards.

"I might be able to do something. I can't promise anything but I might be able to bring him back."

"Please, if there's anything you can do please try."

Cluym placed both hands on the body of the guard. In his time with his mentor, Cluym had seen great feats of magic performed. He knew that it was possible to bring the dead back to life. The most powerful necromancers could restore the life of a person who had died centuries ago, merely by saying their name. Most necromancers though needed to attempt a revival moments after death. Cluym hadn't actually mastered any of these techniques. He had barely started his training when his mentor died (9). Having seen Yomada channel the wild magic earlier had inspired him though. The elf could feel the magical energies filling his body and flowing into the guard, but it was too powerful and fast for him to direct. He lifted his hands knowing he had done… something, but he had failed to revive the guard. The others looked at him with a knowing look of disappointment, but knew it was too much to ask of the mage.

As the guards cared for their fallen brother-in-arms, Cluym and Yomada walked towards the tavern. They were arguing about who had been the most useful in battle. Cluym's argument was that he had performed the killing blow on the sorcerer. Yomada countered that by saying it was actually sparrow who had killed the sorcerer, and Cluym had needed reviving after being knocked out in one hit, again. And of course, Yomada had succeeded in ensnaring the sorcerer. Neither side was willing to back down when a figure popped into existence in the middle of the village square. She was wearing the same bright red robe and pointy hat that the old man had last time they were here, but she was much younger.

"Have you seen my father? I haven't seen him in a few days," the woman asked.

"Let me guess, old guy? Wears the same robe and hat? Also likes to appear and disappear?" Cluym ventured.

"That sounds like him, do you know where he is?"

"No, we saw him here about four or five days ago. He said he was looking for his daughter."

"Ah, I think I know where he would have gone," she turned to leave.

"Before you vanish," Yomada interrupted, "I don't suppose there are any others like you near here? Dressed in red I mean. We have a few questions we'd like to ask them."

"We do?" Cluym asked confused.

"Shut up," Yomada growled at Cluym, jabbing him in his ribs.

"Of course," she replied, "The Order of the Red resides in that tower over there." As she pointed towards the east, she vanished.

Yomada and Cluym looked in the direction she had indicated and, sure enough, on top of a small incline, at the end of a winding path was a mage tower. You could tell it was a mage tower because its design defied conventional architecture… and gravity. It extended upwards in a rather chaotic manner. It bulged outwards in places, become impossibly thin in others. Parts of it slanted at forty-five degrees, and in places it looked like a section of the tower had slid sideways, independently of the rest of the tower, and now appeared to be attached by nothing more than maybe a brick or two. It was a terribly hard thing to miss, but the ever-attentive duo had managed to somehow.

This was enough to push Yomada over the edge. Not seeing kobolds running about in the shadows is excusable, they were trying not to be seen. Not noticing that the villagers were charmed is understandable, being charmed and being drunk look quite similar. Even not realising the bread was mouldy was perfectly reasonable given the urgency of the situation. But spending hours in a village and not even looking east long enough to see the absolutely unmissable, eyesore of a tower was beyond belief. Without any word to Cluym, Yomada wandered off, determined to investigate every square inch of the village. Not even the smallest pebble was going to go unnoticed again.

"Where are you going? Why do we want to talk to the red guys?" Cluym called after Yomada. The dwarf was too occupied carefully making notes about the curious route an ant was taking. "I guess I'll just go and talk to them myself."

Cluym set off towards the tower. Despite all the fire, sword fighting and death; it was actually quite a pleasant day. This side of the village didn't have many buildings, it was quite open and green with a sweet smelling row of flowers alongside the road. About half way up the incline was a fountain. It was still running despite the obvious lack of maintenance. A simple conjuration kept the water flowing. When Cluym reached the foot of the tower he was faced by a large, imposing, wooden door. He knocked. It seemed unlikely that anyone inside would be able to hear the door unless they happened to be on the ground floor. After a few moments of silence, Cluym raised his hand to knock again.

"What do you want?" A voice carried through the door.

"Um, hi. I don't really know. My dwarf friend wanted to ask you some questions but he's wandered off. I don't know where he's gone. He's been acting a little odd since we met the High Priestess of Tor, although I guess he's always been a little odd."

"Did you say the High Priestess of Tor is here?" the door enquired.

"Yes, she's gone to the tavern. I don't know why she did that either. Nobody tells me anything."

The door was silent for a moment and then creaked open. Four wizards, all wearing the same red robes, burst out cheerily talking amongst each other. They walked straight past Cluym, down the road towards the tavern. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Great, more people leaving me. What am I supposed to do now?"

1 This was all Yomada needed to prove that she wasn't really a dwarf. If she was a dwarf, she would have been impressed by the echo that Yomada had managed to produce. Dwarves took their drinking very seriously.

2 Well, people Yomada hadn't cheated or stolen from.

3 For dwarves, sharing war stories was basically just reciting an extensive list of people whom some grandfather, or other ancestor, had headbutted so hard they ended up three inches shorter.

4 Cluym wasn't exactly smart but he also wasn't Cruben levels of stupidity either.

5 The god of music, revels, wine and tricks. Who else would Yomada worship?

6 If it's possible to bleed sarcastically from a kobold stab wound to the chest, that was the dwarven guard's response.

7 Because dwarves usually spend a lot of time underground, their eyes have developed to see in even the darkest conditions. Similarly, elves are native to dark, gloomy forests and have too developed such good vision. Humans, however, usually only spend time in dark places when they have done something they really shouldn't have and a kindly law enforcer has given them a tour of the inside of a cell.

8 Magic users spend a long time trying to learn spells, it takes time and effort to master them and be able to cast them at will. Even given the necessary time, there are still many spells that cannot be learnt because their power is too strong or drawn from forces the caster doesn't have access to. However, the world is saturated by magic. Anyone who knows how to use magic can try and channel the wild magical energies surrounding them to bend reality to their will. This is a very hard task, and usually has unintended side effects. Yomada was lucky, this time.

9 He had been learning for a number of years but just hadn't progressed much.


	3. Don't worry, be happy!

**Don't worry, be happy!**

 _Cluym stumbled through the streets distraught. He had just witnessed the deaths of everyone he knew and loved. It had all happened so fast, he barely had time to realise what was happening._

 _A gang of hooded individuals had arrived in the middle of the night and started the massacre. Cluym had never seen them before, and couldn't understand what could possibly motivate them to do such things. As any child would, he tried to hide from them. He'd gone to the little nook in the kitchen he used to sit in when he wanted some peace to read his books. After hastily blocking himself in with whatever furniture he could grab, he sat trying to slow his breath. He didn't want to make any noise at all. When one of the hooded figures entered the kitchen, Cluym stopped breathing altogether. The intruder wasn't looking for money or food, they were looking for people. Cluym's heart stopped when the furniture in front of him was thrown aside. The intruder stared directly at him… and then moved on. 'He must have seen me,' Cluym thought. Confused, he ran. He left the screams behind him and ran as fast as his legs would carry him._

 _The next day when Cluym reached the neighbouring village, he desperately sought out help. But no matter where he turned he was ignored. Everyone just seemed to look right through him. Exhausted, he collapsed on the steps of the local temple…_

Cluym was sitting on a rock, lost in his own world. He was waiting for something… anything to happen. Even a roving hoard of slightly irked kobolds would offer some distraction. After he had been ignored by the wizards, Cluym tried knocking on the door again. Nothing. He instructed Sparrow to look through a window. Nothing. He tried to send Sparrow into an open window and the bird just bounced off an invisible barrier. Desperate, Cluym resorted to his last option. He wrote a message to Yomada asking them to come to the tower. He wrapped it round Sparrow's leg and set the bird off... three hours ago.

It was actually a very pleasant day, Yomada noted. The chaffinches were singing at a gentle sixty-four decibels. Seventeen trees slowly waved back and forth in the breeze. The sheep, probably called Albert, was currently chewing on grass in the north-east corner of the field. Of the remaining houses the party hadn't ransacked: seven didn't have doors; three were barricaded and near impossible to enter without causing serious structural damage; ninety-three percent of them didn't have a single trace of metal left inside; and one had a lovely pink floral design painted on its walls. Since Cluym left, Yomada had been making extensive notes.

Donregan was mostly built around two intersecting roads that formed a T shape. The base of the T was the road leading from the gateway to the village square. The square bisected the longer road that led to the tower in the east, and ended in the police station to the west. Above the doors to the police station, the word 'police' was barely visible. The sign was very faded and dirty, and the letters were only visible because they were ever so slightly less faded. Branching off these two main roads were smaller streets, lined by houses, that ended in small parks. It was in one of these parks that Sparrow found Yomada, taking an inventory of the flowerbeds.

Sparrow's arrival was quite timely. Yomada had almost finished investigating the west side of the village, and would have started heading towards the tower regardless. It was on the road to the tower, however, that Yomada bumped into the wizards. The dwarf had remembered the High Priestess mentioning a desire to talk to the Order of the Red, and was always eager to please.

"Good day my friends. Have I got an exciting opportunity for you!"

"Oh really? That does sound like fun, but we're on our way to the tavern right now." The wizards seemed very cheery. Not quite as upbeat as the villagers, but still unusually happy.

"Well isn't it your lucky day. The High Priestess of Tor happens to be in the tavern at this very moment and I'm sure she'd love to meet you."

"We know," one of wizards replied, bursting Yomada's bubble, "That's why we're going to the Golden Hand."

"Ah. Well then, let me accompany you and I'll make the introductions myself. I have become a somewhat invaluable travelling companion of hers." Yomada joined the group and led them towards the tavern, regaling them about the recent fight with the kobolds. When they arrived, the dwarf motioned for them to wait outside. With unnecessary flourish, and a small musical fanfare (1), Yomada threw the double doors open.

"Your highness! May I humbly present to you four members of the Order of the Red." Yomada bowed, throwing a few colourful sparks around the doorway (2). The wizards awkwardly entered the room.

"Ah, Nieven. It's good to see you old friend, it's been too long," the High Priestess approached the wizards, ignoring the near prostrate Yomada. "Tell me, what manner of misfortune has befallen this village?"

The wizards followed the High Priestess into the corner she had claimed for herself. Somehow, a softly upholstered chair had been found for her to use. It looked incredibly out of place next to the hard, wooden stools that littered the rest of the tavern. As everyone gathered around, Nieven started to recite the tale of what had happened six months previously.

"It started out as a day like any other. The villagers were going about their business as usual. Without warning, individuals just began disappearing. It started sporadically at first, but after a dozen or so had gone, people began to notice. As friends and family faded from existence, panic started to spread. Panic grew into terror as the disappearances increased in speed. Almost half the village was no more after the first hour. In a futile attempt to prevent whatever was happening, groups either barricaded themselves in their houses, or collected all their belongings and fled the village. It didn't help. Barricaded buildings soon became empty and anyone who passed the village boundaries disappeared within a few steps. By nightfall less than one quarter of the population was left.

As soon as we learnt of the incident, the Order put all our effort into researching what was happening. This proved difficult as our Order was not immune to this phenomenon. With our numbers dwindling, one of our members stumbled upon a vital discovery. It was only those who displayed strong negative emotions that were taken. That is why it initially spread so quickly. Fear, panic and the great sadness of losing a loved one only hastened their fate. In an attempt to prevent further disappearances, the Order started to charm anyone we could find. A simple spell, giving a false veil of happiness, but it seemed to work. The village stabilised and we were able to take stock of what had happened.

We knew our charms were only temporary, and we couldn't feasibly maintain the level of magic required to protect the entire village whilst also looking for a solution. That is when Rosmerta volunteered to take over duties here at the tavern. She spends her days brewing the charm potion that the village now relies on. Once a day we all must drink one of her draughts in order to sustain an aura of happiness. This freed us up to investigate the cause of this ungodly incident, but alas we have struggled. Our once great order has been reduced to a mere six, active members. Most of us are woefully ignorant in the necessary areas of research. To this day we are none the wiser, and fear we may never determine the cause and bring back those who have been taken."

Nieven's harrowing tale was made all the more disturbing by his jolly recital. His charmed smile masking the despair deep within him.

"Has anyone from outside the village ever disappeared? Are we safe staying here?" Yomada asked nervously.

"Since this started we haven't had many visitors, and the ones we've had haven't stayed long. So far only residents of the village have disappeared, some outsiders have stayed a few nights and left unharmed. You should be perfectly safe," Nieven answered.

"I have every faith in you my dear friend," the High Priestess said, gently resting a hand on Nieven's shoulder. She turned to face Yomada. "You are excused, Nieven and I have much to discuss."

"Of course, your highness. I probably should try and find my friend anyway, make sure he's not getting into trouble. Knowing him he was probably knocked out by a mean looking rabbit. If I can ever be of service to you again though, you need only ask." The High Priestess accepted Yomada's offer with a dismissive wave.

One relaxing stroll later, after stopping to smell almost every flower along the way, Yomada found Cluym sitting outside the tower. He seemed far from impressed at the late arrival of the dwarf. Yomada apologised and calmly explained the reason for the delay and brought Cluym up to speed with what had happened to leave the village in its current state. Cluym accepted the apology and they shook hands, both agreeing to forget about the disagreement (3). They then turned their attention to the tower.

"Have you tried knocking?"

"Of course I've tried that, do you really think I sat here waiting for you for three hours just so you could tell me to knock on the door?"

"Knowing you I just assumed you'd done something stupid like trying to fly your bird through a window, ignoring the fact that wizards would most likely guard against that kind of thing."

"That's beside the point," Cluym blushed, "I want to look inside so how are we going to get in?"

Yomada thought for a moment and then knocked on the door. Cluym started to build up to another complaint when the door creaked open a fraction. An eye peered through the gap.

"Will you two stop fighting, I'm trying to read and you're very distracting."

"My apologies good sir. I am Yomada, a bard of some modest fame around these parts. You may have heard my harp music drifting into your tower, uplifting your spirits."

"We've heard you all right. Gave us a good opportunity to practise our abjuration magic. It's been a while since some of us have used silence spells." Yomada was affronted but carried on regardless.

"Yes, well, glad to be of service. My friend, Cluym, is a trainee wizard and a big fan of the Order. I was wondering if we could have a look around, maybe get a short tour? It would make his day. He's really excited to meet you."

"Excited to meet me? I'm only the librarian," the door opened a few inches more revealing a red clad dwarf.

"Oh, but for wizards the library is the most important place. It's where all the real action takes place. All that knowledge, research. That's what magic is built on. Casting fancy spells just to wow the locals is child's play. Not just anyone can read a book though (4)." The silver-tongued dwarf had an uncanny way of homing in on weak willed individuals and charming them.

"I've always thought us librarians were an undervalued breed. I'm the only one in at the moment but I guess I could show you around. I think you'll enjoy the library, I use an unusual ordering system. Most people go by category or, more predictably, alphabetically. But one day I said to myself, Dumir… that's me by the way… Dumir, I said, how are you supposed to order books alphabetically when they use different alphabets, and some don't even use words. Well, that's when I had the brilliant idea to…" Dumir started walking up the tall spiral staircase, oblivious to the world around him.

Yomada and Cluym shrugged at each other and followed the librarian. It was a very long climb, doubly so for the dwarves. The library was on the top floor, probably to keep Dumir away from the other wizards. It was large room with a high sloped ceiling, but almost every piece of available space was occupied by piles of books. There was a narrow path from the door to a desk, and another path from the desk to a window. Other than that, every surface was covered with an odd assortment of books and scrolls of parchment. It was difficult to believe that there was any ordering system, the room was completely chaotic.

"Quite impressive, I can honestly say this is the most organised library I have ever stepped foot in (5)," Yomada said, carefully treading around a book that almost seemed to growl at the dwarf.

"I don't suppose there are any spell books we could look at? Learn a new spell or two?" Cluym ventured.

"I'm not really supposed to let non-members into here, leafing through the books is certainly forbidden."

"Come now, we're not going to damage them. Besides, the others are in the tavern. They won't know. And I find it a little odd that they didn't take you along as well." Yomada had a hunch at which strings to pull.

"They never take me. They always say that they don't want to disturb my research," Dumir said, bitterness slipping into the words.

"This is YOUR library, isn't it? Surely you say who can read which books."

"It's the Order's library… but nobody else uses it that often. In a way I guess it's mine."

"And a fine dwarf like yourself is always looking to help do good. Why only a few hours ago my companion and I were ridding your village of some rather nasty kobolds. Just imagine what other noble deeds we could accomplish with the knowledge that only you can bestow. Our victories would be your victories. Songs will be sung about our heroics, and of course, you will have verses too. Who knows, maybe even a book or two will be written."

"A book! I could be in a book?"

"Oh yes. A whole chapter on how you trained us and taught us your vast arcane knowledge. I'm sure there would even be a few choice footnotes with your name on them (6)."

"You're right. This is MY library and I say who can read MY books. Just say an area that you're interested in and the book will come to you." Cluym didn't need to be told twice.

"I'd like a book on spells that create fire." A book just above Yomada's left ear started to twitch. The dwarf quickly put an arm out to stop it.

"Maybe try something with a bit more utility. You're already proficient in setting things on fire." Cluym deflated a little and started to investigate the many piles of books. "Do you have any spell books that a bard could use? Our magic is not quite the same as yours."

"Not much call for that kind of thing here. I might have something in the back though." Dumir set off through the piles and disappeared from view. After a minute or two, the librarian made a noise of triumph and then blew heavily on something. A rather large cloud of dust indicated where he had found the book. He returned to Yomada and handed over a rather old, beaten up volume titled 'Music and Magic: Strange bedfellows or a match made in heaven?'.

"Can I use some of your ink to copy a spell?" Cluym's voice carried over a stack of parchments.

"Well I suppose you can, but you'll need to pay me to get replacement ink. One hundred gold pieces should cover it (7)."

"I don't have that much money," Cluym said holding a rather light purse.

"I'm sure a resourceful fellow such as our good friend Dumir here could sort something out. Oh and did I say a few footnotes? I of course meant several. Long ones at that."

"I guess I could water down the ink with some of the regular stuff. Just don't choose anything too powerful."

The studious duo set about learning their new spells. Cluym spent an hour carefully copying every letter of a spell he found in a book on elemental conjuring. Meanwhile, Yomada set about remembering chord sequences and verses that would tap into the echoes of the primordial words of creation, and whisper knowledge of those around. When they were finished, they bid a hasty goodbye to Dumir and left him nose deep in a book titled 'From Alchemy to Zoology: The pros and cons of A – Z'. Without a chaperone, the two seized on the opportunity to do a little snooping. On the way down the spiral staircase there were a number of doors leading off into small rooms. Some were locked, others were wide open. The rooms looked quite uniform, filled with odd, magical curios with a desk placed in the middle covered in parchment. One room did seem more interesting than the others. It appeared to be a storage room of some kind. Before they could get a good look however, they each heard a voice echo in their heads.

"I require your presence at the Golden Hand. Do not delay." They instantly recognised the voice of the High Priestess. Not knowing if she could tell what they were up to, they decided to swiftly move on from the tower. They arrived at the tavern to find the High Priestess and Nieven still deep in conversation. After a few minutes of standing around patiently, the High Priestess addressed them.

"I have been discussing this horrible business with Nieven. As far as the Order has been able to ascertain, this effect, whatever it may be, emanated from the police station. We have come to a certain, financial arrangement. I have offered your services in investigating this phenomenon. I expect such well-travelled individuals such as yourselves will be able to root out the cause by day's end tomorrow." Yomada detected a hint of a threat in that last sentence.

"Right, yes. I did offer my help didn't I. Given that we've already faced some fierce opponents in this village, can we have some fighters to back us up?" Yomada asked, always trying to stay as far away from combat as possible.

"I will lend you the use of some of my guards. I will discuss the situation with them and they will decide who will accompany you."

"Also, this is clearly a very powerful magical effect, can we have a member of the order come with us too. That way if we come across anything arcane that looks suspicious they can help determine its nature. Maybe even give us a heads up if something evil is near," Cluym added. Nieven thought for a moment.

"I have just the person in mind. Come to the tower tomorrow morning."

"Well in that case then, I think an early night is in order. We'll rest up from the battles today and attack this problem fresh in the morning. Are there any rooms in the inn? Preferably two quite far apart."

As Yomada went for a well-earned rest, Cluym pulled Nieven aside. He took the wizard to a corner, out of sight of the High Priestess. After checking to make sure no one was paying any attention to them, he pulled out his ring.

"Can you tell what kind of magic this ring is imbued with? I can tell it has some sort of spell contained within it, but I don't have the expertise to determine the exact nature of it."

"I should be able to." Nieven took the ring and studied it for a few moments and then put it on. His usual broad grin turned into a smile, which turned into a hearty belly laugh. For the first time since Cluym had met him, Nieven seemed truly happy. As he wiped away a tear, Nieven explained.

"This ring is a simple trick, a magic joke if you will. Sold as a novelty to tourists. It is a ring of locating. When worn, the wearer knows precisely where the ring is." Nieven passed it back to Cluym and walked off laughing. Cluym sighed, disappointed, and put the ring on. He instantly knew that it was on his right index finger.

It was technically the morning. The sun hadn't woken up yet, but Yomada rolled out of bed and found Cluym meditating. The pair had gone to bed in the late afternoon and so were up and about before everyone else. They scrounged together a hearty breakfast and went to round up the guards they had been promised. Most of the convoy had slept in and around the caravans, so it was near the stables that our early-rising duo found the circle of sleeping guards. The sky was just starting to flirt with the idea of twilight. Not wishing to waste precious seconds of daylight, Yomada played a rousing song on the harp (8). The guards weren't too pleased, but it was effective.

Overnight the guards had drawn straws, and the losers had been Grok, the dwarven guard who had helped with the kobolds when they first arrived; and Elan, an elf who hadn't had many dealings with the pair until the wake-up serenade. As Grok and Elan gathered their equipment, the other guards turned over and went back to sleep. Near the guard's sleeping area was the remains of the kobold's hoard. The guards had moved it out of the cellar and piled it near the convoy so they could sort through it. At Grok's suggestion, Yomada and Cluym had a quick look through the pile. Yomada found some throwing darts, and Cluym picked up a silver tipped quarterstaff. They also found some brass letters, after the P, O and L it became clear where they had been removed from. Ready for action, the party went to the tower to get their last recruit (9).

A full ten minutes after knocking on the door, a very sleepy wizard opened it. He was an incredibly old looking dwarf. It was hard to tell who was older, the tower or the dwarf. He was of course clothed in the customary red, but in a dressing gown instead of the standard robes (10).

"Are you the one who's helping us today?" Yomada asked.

"What's that?" the wizard shouted.

"Are you coming with us to the police station?" Yomada shouted back.

"You're going to have to speak up sonny," the wizard told the wrong person, "No use in whispering."

"Is there someone else we can talk to?"

"I'll have to get someone else, see if they can hear you." The wizard pointed upwards and a woman appeared next to him, also in a red dressing gown.

"Hello, what can we do for you?

"Are YOU the one who's supposed to come with us today?" Yomada asked hopefully.

"What? I don't know anything about that, hold on a moment and I'll get Nieven." She pointed upwards and Nieven, complete with dressing gown, appeared next to her.

"It's a little early don't you think?" Nieven said blinking at the harsh, dark purple sky.

"More time to solve the mystery. Look, who exactly is coming with us?" Yomada asked getting a little frustrated.

"Ah, yes of course." Nieven pointed upwards. Nothing seemed to happen. Then a familiar face stepped out from behind Nieven.

"Oh hi you two. Isn't this exciting, they're sending me out on a field mission. Nieven said I was uniquely qualified for this, don't quite understand what he means. I guess there's going to be some books that need sorting through, that kind of thing." Yomada and Cluym looked at each other, pondering if Dumir would actually be an asset. At the very least he would be an extra body to throw between them and danger.

"Fine, can we just go now?" Cluym sighed.

"Sure. Let me just say goodbye to my friend first." Before they could stop him, Dumir pointed upwards and a young elf appeared in the now crowded entrance. The wizards awkwardly shuffled so the newcomer could say a few words to Dumir, shake his hand and wish him good luck.

"Ok, just give me a moment." Another shuffle and Dumir slammed the door shut. After a brief pause he opened it again, revealing an empty space. Dumir was now dressed in his usual robes and stiff pointy hat. The party was finally ready to investigate and made their way to the police station.

They stood outside the police station, the imposing oak doors in front of them. Like many of the buildings in the village, this one had been barricaded from the inside when the panic began. Unlike the other buildings however, the police station was built to withstand armed militias. The rag tag collection of fighters and academics standing outside certainly didn't begin to compare with an organised force. Cluym had offered to burn the doors down, but his suggestion had been quickly disregarded by the others. It was going to be hard enough finding clues with everything in one piece. Yomada had led the group on a quick survey of the perimeter of the building, looking for any potential entry points, but the dwarf had been too focused on the building and hadn't noticed the bear trap hidden in the grass. The others were quick to release Yomada, and deactivate the magical alarm that had triggered with the trap, but it left the bard with a significant limp.

"I guess I could just teleport in and open the door from the inside," Cluym ventured. The others looked at him stunned.

"Since when can you do that? Also, why did you only wait until now to mention it?" Yomada furiously hobbled towards Cluym.

"There might have been an easier way in. Besides, I've never actually used this spell before. I'm not too sure that it will work. It's the one I learnt in the tower."

"Does this mean I get another footnote?" Dumir excitedly chimed in.

"Fine, just teleport in then. Let's get this done."

"There is just one problem. I need to be able to see where I'm teleporting to," Cluym motioned to the high set windows.

The group decided that the two strongest members would lift Cluym up so he could see in through the window. The only problem with the plan was the two strongest members were Grok and Elan, a dwarf and an elf. The height difference made for an unsteady platform for Cluym as he cast his spell. He muttered a few arcane words and a silvery mist started to form around him. As the mist dissipated, Grok and Elan felt the weight lift off their shoulders and saw that Cluym had vanished (11).

Cluym was disoriented for a few moments after the mist faded from around himself. He took a few deep breaths and then looked around. He was standing in the middle of what could be described as the reception area of the police station. There was a long counter splitting the room in two, with rows of benches on the side that had the front door. Cluym walked over to the door and saw what had been preventing it from opening. A thick plank had been placed against the door, resting in two iron hooks. It took him a lot of effort, but Cluym managed to lift the plank and let the others in.

Now they were inside, the party was a little hesitant. Whatever had happened to the village had started here. Dumir tried to reassure them that he didn't detect any strong evil presence or lingering magical effects, but nobody wanted to be the first to move. They decided that the best thing to do would be to each roll a die and let fate decide. Yomada was particularly happy because the dwarf had spent years swindling people with the magical illusion of a die, that just so happened to always land favourably. Elan lost, and was sent ahead to investigate each room they came across.

They spent a few unproductive hours scrutinising the police station. The building had two floors and mostly functioned like a large house. There was a kitchen; a recreation room; an office for the chief of police; a few miscellaneous rooms with either a desk or some bunkbeds; and two empty holding cells. They couldn't find anything that seemed out of place, and certainly nothing with enough power to make the villagers vanish. They did, however, find a trapdoor that led down into a basement.

Underneath the police station they found a further four cells, unlike the ones above though these were occupied. Each cell had a complete skeleton, resting on the floor. Obviously, no one had been around to care for the prisoners in the last six months. There was also a desk with a log book on top. This contained a list of names and dates, chronicling who had been incarcerated and for how long. The last dozen or so didn't have release dates. With nothing else to investigate, some of the party took a closer look at the skeletons. Even if the bodies were six months old, they wouldn't have decayed this much. The bones were clean, not a scrap of flesh left. And certainly no sign of any clothing. This could not be natural.

"Hey Dumir, could you identify if a spell has been used on these skeletons?" Cluym asked.

"Well, maybe. If magic has been used on them I could potentially discover which spell… but I would have to touch one of them. I don't really think it will help us." Dumir backed away slowly.

"Ah, but this is your chance," Yomada engaged full charm mode, "This is the kind of thing that stories are made of. Brave deeds in the face of adversity."

"I don't know. It's not very respectful."

"You need to think of the bigger picture. If this is related to what's happened to the village it could be vital information."

"I guess it might help, but I don't really see how."

"You never know until you try. This is what heroes do. This is why songs are sung, tales are told… books are written."

"Do you really think this is tale-worthy?"

"The brave librarian, fearlessly using his magic skills and knowledge to get to the bottom of this terrible mystery. You'll be heralded as the champion of the village. Your name will echo across the Kingdom. You will go down in history."

"That does sound nice."

"So what do you say?" Yomada watched as Dumir considered.

"No, fuck that. I'm not touching a skeleton." Yomada sighed and went to plan B. In an instant Dumir was being held two inches above the floor by a battleaxe underneath his chin. "On second thoughts, it probably won't be that bad. If you just let me down I'll see what I can do."

Yomada lowered Dumir. Dumir fidgeted with a bag he had brought along and produced a book. After flipping through the pages and reading a lengthy section, he tentatively reached his arm through the bars of a cell and touched the toe of its occupant. He grimaced as he recited the correct words and made an odd assortment of hand gestures.

"Yes, definitely magical. Quite evil too. This poor soul has had a terrible blight cast upon him. Quite advanced necromancy." Dumir shuddered and wiped his hand frantically. "I don't see how this is related to the disappearances though. This spell couldn't have caused that."

"No, but whoever, or whatever, did this to these prisoners could have caused this whole situation. And going by what you said, that's probably not someone we want to run into," Thogold added.

Whilst the group was digesting this new information, Yomada had been distracted by something. Dwarves spend a lot of time underground in mines, surrounded by rock. This tends to lead to a natural affinity for stone, and at least a casual interest in stone working. Something about the far wall had caught Yomada's eye. The dwarf carefully ran a hand over the bricks, feeling the mortar and inspecting every crack and crevice. Yomada then took a step backwards and, on a hunch, started to sing. The bard tried to recall the words written in Dumir's book, and improvised the rest. Yomada then let the melody resonate around the room, the notes penetrating the four walls. When the echoes returned, they carried new voices. _'It's so cold and lonely'._ Yomada could hear the same thoughts from two different creatures.

"Guys, there's a hidden door here. Not only that, there's people behind there. At least two, but… they both feel alone."

Chilled by this new revelation, the group started looking for any way to open the door. There were no obvious switches or levers. They couldn't find any trigger mechanism, magical or otherwise. Cluym asked if Dumir knew any magical means of opening the door. Much happier in his element, Dumir pulled out all of his books and researched the relevant magics. He found a promising chapter and sat in the middle of the floor reading for a solid ten minutes. He lifted his gaze to look at the door and was surprised to see it wide open.

There was a brief scuffle trying to back away from the opening before Elan was pushed forward. The party peered through the entrance and saw a row of cells, stretching into the darkness (12). Each cell had a skeleton inside, but unlike in the cells they had found first, these skeletons were standing upright. Their empty eye sockets pointed directly at the now open door. And what was worse, the cells were open.

As the skeletons started to walk towards the noise, the party took up a defensive position. Grok and Elan stood in the doorway, ready to strike. Thogold stood a few paces back readying his bow. Cluym and Yomada spread out to the sides, already preparing spells. Dumir meanwhile, still hadn't moved from his spot on the floor. The battle was initially easy to handle. Cluym managed to send a burst of fire down the line of skeletons, damaging them enough for Grok, Elan and Thogold to finish off. Yomada kept spirits high, and gave aid where possible, guiding attacks to their targets with a few reality bending words. Even Dumir joined in, sending magical attacks at the oncoming foe. Then the tide of battle changed.

A few armoured skeletons had had time to approach unnoticed from the opposite side of the cells. With their swords held high they landed brutal blow after blow. Yomada tried to get an angle to send a powerful wave of sound into the undead's midst, but only succeeded in knocking a few backwards. A steady stream of skeletons still approached. When one fell, another was ready to take its place. The guards at the front received the brunt of the attacks. The pace at which they could push the enemy back slowed, and they started to get overwhelmed. Thogold had been forced to pull back. His bowstring had come loose, and in his haste to restring his bow he snapped the upper limb. And then the party lost another fighter as a skeleton landed a savage blow on Elan, knocking him to the floor dead.

Trying to make up for his earlier failure, Cluym rushed to the still body of Elan. He felt the now familiar feeling of magic surging through him. He drew on all his experience and directed the wave of magic into Elan's body, calling his soul back. Elan gasped and then lay still again, this time merely unconscious.

This act of necromancy, giving life to the lifeless, startled and disgusted Dumir. He sat unable to act. Cluym ordered him into action and picked up Elan's fallen mace, ready to make a stand on the front line. The only thing Dumir could think to do was to levitate Elan out of harm's way. With their last ounces of strength, the party beat back at the remaining skeletons. They had resorted to bludgeoning them with whatever was at hand. Thogold was even using the remains of his bow to fend them off. With one final effort, the last of the skeletons fell to the ground. Bones shattered and useless. The undead stirred no more.

Battered and bloodied the party took stock. They were alive, barely, and one of them only by the grace of some God. The basement had almost been their tomb, but they were alive…

… For now.

1 Magically created.

2 Magic again. Yomada wasn't the most competent in battle, but really knew how to put on a good show.

3 And if you believe that you'll believe anything. What actually happened was another shouting match, followed by name calling and further bickering. By now this was just their accepted form of communication, and was as close to civil as the two could manage.

4 This was quite accurate. Literacy levels in the Kingdom were quite poor. Many Lords and Dukes had been elected for their aggressive stances on improving education, but that only seemed to help those with deep pockets and good connections.

5 Again, also accurate. Although it was also the least organised library Yomada had ever stepped foot in. Yomada wasn't much of a library kind of dwarf. Why read a story when you can hear it regaled by a drunk minstrel with a loose coin purse.

6 Never underestimate the value of a good footnote!

7 This may sound a lot for ink, but spells tend to take on a life of their own when written down and stored together. They only stay on the page if the ink is high quality and slightly magical. Otherwise, they tend to just leap off the page and cast themselves. Not the most convenient when dealing with old, dry parchment and spells that cause fire.

8 You're probably thinking along the lines of Edvard Grieg's Peer Gynt. Yomada actually went for something more akin to the finale of the 1812 overture. Complete with magical cannon sound effects provided by Cluym.

9 Due to bad timing on his part, they passed Thogold just as they were leaving and he was bullied into joining.

10 It's hard to tell the difference between Wizard's robes and a dressing gown, they look almost identical. Although his pointy hat had flopped over to one side and had a fluffy pom pom on the end which helped.

11 To be fair to Cluym, this was a reasonably impressive feat. The spell was more powerful than he was used to casting and he had only read about it, he hadn't had time to practise. Unbeknownst to the wizard, a few strands of wild magic had helped him cast the spell.

12 There wasn't any light in this part of the basement, so 'stretching into the darkness' isn't the most accurate description. Every member of the party was able to somewhat see in the dark however, so it did have that kind of effect.


	4. Though she be but little, IT is fierce

**Though she be but little, IT is fierce.**

 _Yomada sat under a tree, a good few miles away from the furious villagers. The dwarf had been run out of town, again. A few too many people had their well-earned money either swindled or stolen away, and it all had started when the dwarf first appeared. Yomada couldn't help it, humans couldn't handle their alcohol as well as dwarves could, so they made easy targets. This was the fourth village Yomada had travelled through since almost being beheaded in Neverwinter, and each village had quickly decided that the bard should move on._

 _Musing on where to go next, Yomada pulled out their harp and stated to play. Without realising it, after a while the dwarf started to play some old tunes from home. Yomada didn't realise until they caught themselves singing as well. The dwarf abruptly stopped. Maybe it was time to go home. The bardic life clearly wasn't going well, maybe it was time to try and make amends, time to stop running away._

 _Before they could finish that thought, Yomada heard the faint sounds of a lute floating across the countryside. As the music grew louder, a cart came into view down the road. The occupants seemed to be having a fun time and, most importantly, were heading away from the village Yomada had just left. 'I could always try one more village', Yomada thought, 'What's the worst that can happen?'_

Yomada stood looking at the now benign piles of bones. The floor was covered with broken shards and blood. They couldn't be sure if they had found the cause of the disappearances, but they had definitely found something. It was worth reporting back, besides, the party needed to tend to their wounds. They couldn't possibly face anything else in their condition.

"He was dead. The skeleton killed him. He died." Dumir was in shock.

"He's alive now. I saved him, that's all that matters," Cluym tried to reassure.

"We need to head back to the tavern, bind our wounds and inform the others of what we've found. Come on." Yomada helped Grok up off the floor and the party supported each other out of the basement and back towards the safety of the Golden Hand.

Cluym lagged behind a little. He was still holding Elan's mace, which confused him. Why had he picked it up during the fight? He had a perfectly good quarterstaff. As he looked around for the staff he noticed something else was different. He no longer had this feeling in the back of his head, the piece of knowledge constantly struggling for attention informing him that his ring was on his right index finger. He looked at his hand and the ring was gone. Realising what had happened, Cluym swore under his breath and caught up with the rest of the party (1).

Upon entering the Golden Hand, the party was swarmed by optimistic villagers hoping to hear their troubles would soon be over. When it was clear that they needed medical aid, the High Priestess issued a series of orders to her followers. The villagers were corralled out of the tavern and bandages and healing salves were produced. As the party's wounds were being seen to Yomada reported on their progress.

"Underneath the police station we were attacked by a small army of skeletons. Most likely they were the prisoners who had been abandoned six months ago. Dumir confirmed the presence of some advanced necromancy. We don't know if this is linked with the disappearances. Maybe the same person or creature caused them both. There's definitely something powerful down there though."

"Oh my, that is most disturbing. Just to confirm though, you have yet to ascertain the cause of the disappearances?" Even though to everyone else the High Priestess seemed to have an air of compassion, she dropped any pretence when dealing with Yomada.

"Not yet, we'll head back down after a brief rest. Given the urgency of the matter, and the dangers involved, could we have a few more guards join us?" At the sound of this Grok ran out of the tavern, an unwound bandage streaming behind him. Yomada stared at where he had been a moment ago. "Maybe one or two replacements for our more injured members."

"Since meeting you, two of my guards have died. I will not risk any more lives." Yomada and Cluym exchanged guilty glances.

"Only one of your guards is dead," Yomada tried to argue semantics (2).

"Two of my guards have died," the High Priestess said more pointedly, looking at Cluym.

"Fine, can we at least keep the ones who were assigned to us? Maybe you could call Grok back for us."

"You can take whoever you can convince yourself," the High Priestess said turning away from the dwarf to tend to Elan.

Thogold was the easiest to convince. He had escaped the battle with the skeletons unscathed, and the fact that he had previously shot both Yomada and Cluym was useful leverage. Elan was a little trickier, but Yomada was an expert at blackmailing good natured people. Cluym had saved his life so it was easy enough to convince Elan that he had a debt to repay. They didn't try looking for Grok. On their way out, back to the police station, they scooped up Dumir who had been sat in a corner mostly in shock.

Without the threat of vicious animated dead, the party had the opportunity to investigate the prison. In total there were twelve cells, two in the basement underneath the police station and the remaining ten beyond the hidden door. The tunnel continued past the cells with no end in sight. Positioned against the wall opposite the cells was a desk with a single chair. The few scattered papers on top indicated that it had infrequently been used by the police, they had obviously spent as little time down here as they could get away with.

Under the desk was a row of drawers. Yomada opened the top two and found them empty. When they opened the third one though, the dwarf's thievish instincts kicked in. The drawer had a tripwire which triggered when it was opened. Yomada managed to grab the wire just as it pulled loose on one end. Cluym tried to help disarm the trap, but there wasn't enough room in the small drawer for four fumbling hands. As the wire slipped out of Yomada's hand, an alarm spell spluttered to life and slowly whined back into silence.

Relieved that the drawer had only been protected by a weak spell, months beyond its use by date, Yomada reached in and grasped a simple silver chain. Dangling from the chain was a golden ring, with small feathers etched around the band. It was clearly a magical ring.

"I'll hold on to that if you want," Elan offered.

"Why would I want that?"

"Well, I'm guessing you want me to keep on leading the way through the dark and dangerous tunnels," Elan smirked. Yomada grumbled and handed over the ring, much to Cluym's dismay who also had designs on the ring.

The party continued down the tunnel with Elan leading the way. After a few minutes' walk, the tunnel widened and then opened out into a large underground chamber. In the middle was a small waterfall emanating from the ceiling which formed a stream of water, flowing away from the prison. The party surmised that the water was coming from the fountain in the village square. On opposite sides of the chamber were two circular, wooden doors. Behind one was a passageway that had been barricaded, the other led to a circular tunnel with a shallow layer of water in the bottom. Elan was volunteered to see what was in the tunnel, however it ended in a grate a few hundred metres from the door with nothing much to see beyond.

Back in the chamber the only way left to go was to continue in the direction of the stream. The water was around fifteen feet wide, so the party decided to split in two and travel either side. Elan, Yomada and Cluym followed the right wall, whilst Thogold and Dumir followed the left. The paths either side of the stream were quite narrow and precarious so they travelled in single file.

The journey was relatively boring. The loud rush of the stream had a hypnotic effect, and the repetitive, stone brick pattern of the walls didn't help (3). They were walking at a slower than usual pace, making sure to check for any signs of necromancy or any potential solutions to their mystery. Not able to see much past the two in front, Cluym spent most of his time looking backwards. This was even more tedious than looking forward, but it turned out to be more useful. Cluym noticed two shadows keeping pace with them in the water. He watched as the shadows became shapes, crawling out of the water, and as the shapes became giant, Labrador-sized rats looking for a meal. He called for help as he readied his magic.

Not able to directly attack the rats, Yomada had to get creative. In an effort to distract the closest rat, the dwarf created the image of a box around it. Confused, the rat sniffed at the box but couldn't smell anything. This gave Cluym enough time to throw a bubble of acid at the other rat, and Thogold took a shot at it from across the stream, killing it. Thogold then aimed for the rat in the box but missed. Now aware that the box wasn't real, the rat tried to bite at Cluym. Buoyed by the effectiveness of the magical box, Yomada tried another trick. A growl from some unknown animal echoed through the tunnel, frightening the rat (4). Trying to escape becoming dinner, the rat jumped on Cluym trying to push him to the floor. In a rather impressive display of strength, the not-exactly-muscle-bound wizard managed to throw the rat off. Doubling down on the rouse, Yomada conjured the image of a five foot (5) tall snarling beast, complete with viscous teeth and long, sharp claws. This was the final straw for the rat who immediately ran through three sets of legs and dove into the water.

The rat wasn't the only one making a run for it. Dumir had continued his fleeing from earlier, with Thogold close behind. Thogold knew the creature was another magic trick, and wasn't running away in fear. He just saw the opportunity to leave and not have to face whatever else lay in wait for them. Yomada yelled for them to come back but Thogold's only reply was a hand gesture that wasn't received too well. Jealous of his cowardly ex-party members, Elan sighed and continued along the path.

It wasn't long before they reached another chamber, complete with falling water. This was most likely coming from the fountain on the path to the tower. There was a metal door on the other side of the stream but, with no one left on that side, they couldn't find out what it led to. Just outside the chamber, the path ended at a sheer drop. The stream fell into the cavern below. It was quite a way down, too far to tell, but in the back of the cavern there was a faint orange glow.

Still at the back of the procession, Cluym couldn't see into the cavern. He was looking at the wall instead. He had felt a faint breeze on the side of his neck and found a crack in the wall where it was coming from. He tapped Yomada on the shoulder, who took over the investigation. It turned out it wasn't a crack; a section of the wall didn't have any mortar between the bricks. The dwarf traced the edge of the bricks with a finger, carefully tapped a few to hear what sound they made, then smashed the wall with the butt of their battleaxe. A few bricks fell inwards.

"Subtle," Elan smirked.

"It worked, didn't it?"

The trio managed to make a hole large enough to fit through and found a staircase on the other side leading down into the cavern. The steps were roughly hewn and uneven. About half way down, one of the steps broke as Elan stepped on it. He fell over backwards, knocking the others behind him down as well. The three tumbled until they came to a stop at the bottom. Cluym and Yomada were a little bruised but Elan had landed awkwardly on his leg. He pulled himself over to the side of the cavern and propped himself up against the wall.

Satisfied that Elan was going to be fine, our caring duo looked around the cavern. Yomada wanted to see where the water went, but it just collected in a pool, complete with a dead, oversized rat. Cluym, on the other hand, was drawn to the orange glow. Now they were closer he could see where the light was coming from. The source seemed to be a golden gauntlet floating just below his eye level. As he approached it he noticed the figure of a young girl, her arm held in the air supporting the gauntlet. Her body was frozen stiff and her eyes glazed over. The gauntlet sat loosely on her fist, too big for her small hand.

"Hello, what are you doing down here?" Cluym reached out to place a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. The moment he touched her, he vanished.

"What did you do to him?" Yomada had turned around just in time to see Cluym disappear.

" **HE IS SAFE.** "

The girl's mouth moved but the voice didn't sound like it came from her. The words almost felt like they were being formed in Yomada's head without any noise being made. Yomada knew it was the gauntlet talking (6).

"Where is he?"

" **HE IS SAFE.** "

"What do you mean safe?"

There was no response.

"Why did you do that?"

" **HE ATTACKED THE GIRL.** "

"No, you're mistaken. He was trying to comfort the girl, make sure she was OK. That wasn't an attack."

No response.

"Can you bring him back?"

" **YES.** "

"Please bring him back."

" **HE IS SAFE.** "

Yomada paused for a moment thinking. This line of questioning clearly wasn't going anywhere.

"Are you responsible for the disappearances in the village?"

" **THEY ARE SAFE.** "

"Yes then. Safe from what?"

" **THEMSELVES.** "

"Well who made you? Where did you come from?"

" **I AM OF DONREGAN.** "

"Why are you doing this?"

" **IT IS MY JOB TO PROTECT DONREGAN.** "

"At least we're getting somewhere now," Yomada thought again, "But why now, why only start six months ago?"

" **THE GIRL FOUND ME. BEFORE THAT I COULD NOT SAVE THEM. WHEN SHE PUT ME ON SHE TOLD ME WHO TO SAVE.** "

"Can I speak to her?"

All the tension in the girl's body suddenly released and her arm dropped a little. She blinked a few times, filling her eyes with life again. She quickly looked around the cavern.

"Hello, my name's Yomada. What's yours?"

"I… it's Ariadne."

"Don't worry Ariadne, everything's going to be alright. I'm going to get you out of here but first I need you to answer some questions for me. Can you do that?" Ariadne nodded. "Good, do you have any control over the gauntlet? Can you use it to bring people back?"

Ariadne shook her head.

"That's fine. How did you end up down here with it?"

"I was playing, under the police station. I saw a glow and found the glove. I just wanted to try it on. I didn't mean for this to happen. Please help me." Ariadne started to cry.

"I will help you, I just need a little more information. Do you know why it's making people disappear?"

"When I put the glove on I could see the whole village. It asked me who needed protecting. I didn't know what was happening. I focussed on my dad and then he wasn't there anymore. I got scared and more people started going. Then I got sad and more went. Can you bring them back? Please bring… them…" Ariadne's body tensed again and returned to its earlier stance. Her eyes glazed over once again. A single tear fell down her cheek.

"She isn't telling you who needs to be saved. She is a frightened little girl, you're only recognising people who feel like her. Those who are afraid or upset. She doesn't know what she is doing.

" **SHE IS ALL I HAVE.** "

"You need someone to tell you who to save. Would you release the girl if I found someone better for you? Someone more appropriate to tell you who to save."

" **IT IS MY JOB TO PROTECT DONREGAN. I WILL RELEASE THE GIRL IF SHE IS REPLACED BY SOMEONE WHO CAN BETTER HELP ME PROTECT DONREGAN.** "

"OK then, I just need to convince someone to become a slave to a glove. Shouldn't be too hard. Before I go, did you kill the prisoners? Was it you who brought them back from the dead?"

" **THAT WAS NOT MY DOING.** "

"Do you know who did?"

No response.

"Of course not, that would be too easy." There was a faint pop and Cluym reappeared next to the girl.

"What just happened? I could see this room but I couldn't move or hear anything. And it was darker, but a dark red."

"I'll fill you in on the way to the Golden Hand, we need to talk with Nieven. I've finally figured out what's going on here."

Back on the surface, the trio discovered that the High Priestess and her troupe had left. They had returned to a near empty tavern and were directed to seek out Nieven in the tower. Upon greeting them, Nieven explained that the High Priestess had been eager to continue her journey, and delivered two letters from her. One to Elan and the other for Cluym and Yomada. This second letter read:

'Thank you, kind adventurers. Your assistance in reaching Donregan has been invaluable. I ask now that you assist me one last time and put paid to whatever is decimating Donregan. Your help in this matter won't go unrewarded. You will be paid handsomely in silver, which I have left in the care of Nieven. With blessing, High Priestess of Tor.'

Yomada had hoped that finding the cause of the disappearances would have been sufficient and Cluym was not overly enthusiastic about interacting with the gauntlet again, but this letter disrupted those ideas. Elan however, was much cheerier after reading his letter. Now that the High Priestess had moved on, his services were no longer required. In particular, this meant that he no longer had any obligations to help Cluym and Yomada. As he was leaving the tower, Yomada offered a congratulatory hand shake. Elan was too excited at the prospect of having some free time that he didn't notice the dwarf slipping the magical ring off his finger.

Our dismayed duo returned to the matter at hand and relayed everything they had learned to Nieven. Nieven hadn't heard of any item like the gauntlet, but was sure there would be record of it somewhere in the library. Dumir was not too happy to see Yomada and Cluym again, but relaxed a little when he realised it was purely a research visit. He delighted in retrieving a book, from a somewhat underutilised section, titled 'Great Artefacts of the Kingdom'. With all ears on him, Dumir recited the knowledge held within.

'Hundreds of years ago, the Town of Donregan was a place of violence and of crime. In desperation, the local police force turned to the Order of the Red for aid in keeping the peace. Not wanting to be involved directly, Ayla, first of the Order of the Red, created the gauntlet to help detect and arrest those who had committed crimes in the town. She imbued great power into the Golden Hand, such that non-magic users could use it for their ends. Once order was restored, the Golden Hand was no longer needed and, fearing its intense magical power, was no longer used. The gauntlet has since been lost.'

"So, the gauntlet is supposed to be a tool for justice. It doesn't have its own sense of morality though so it needs someone to control it," Yomada summarised.

"A good person with a strong respect for the law," Cluym finished. "Nieven, are there any priests or police officers left in the village?"

"The village was never big enough to support a church or temple. As for police officers, the station was the first place to be affected. Everyone inside was taken. The only possibility would be Norman. If I remember correctly, not long before the incident he broke his leg. Quite nasty, one of our order had to make a potion for him. He might still be in the village."

"Can you take us to his house?"

Norman's house was located a few doors away from the police station. Most of the policemen lived on that side of the village, and being the deputy chief of police meant that Norman had the benefit of having the second shortest walk to work. It was made just that little bit shorter by the hole in the wall too. The house was in a state. There were remnants of barricades hanging on the windows, the roof had collapsed and the pansies in the front garden were trampled. Time, and the kobolds, had not been kind. Yomada knocked on the doorframe, still wishing to be polite. A cheery looking dwarf clambered out of the hole.

"Marvellously convenient that hole, I should have made another doorway years ago. And it lets a nice cooling breeze through," Norman grinned, he'd clearly remembered his daily potion.

"It's been relatively cold these past few days, surely it can't be comfortable in there." Yomada unconsciously shivered. Living underground made dwarves more accustomed to warmer temperatures.

"Well I can't complain really (7). What can I do for you?"

"We need your help to save the village, and also a little girl, Ariadne. She's being held hostage, now this may sound a little strange I'll admit, she's being held hostage by an intelligent gauntlet that's obsessed by arresting criminals."

"Ariadne, you say? The chief's daughter? About thirteen, blonde hair?" The description matched.

"Yes, that's her. We need you to…"

"Well come on then, what are you waiting for?" Norman said shutting a non-existent door behind him.

"You don't even want to know what we have to do?"

"Why would I? You say Ariadne needs help, and the whole village no less. Protecting others is my job."

"You certainly sound like the right person for the job. And I've always thought that blind obedience with no regard for personal safety is an exceptional quality… for other people to have."

Yomada, Nieven, Cluym and Norman were standing in the cavern (8), a respectable distance from Ariadne and the Golden Hand. Norman's first reaction had been to run towards Ariadne, arms outstretched, but he had been quickly stopped by Cluym. Yomada, having the most rapport with the gauntlet, stepped forward.

"I have returned as promised and now seek to trade the girl for another." Yomada's stage training started to kick in, preparing for a grandiose dialogue with the calculating villain of the play.

" **I MUST PROTECT DONREGAN. GIVE ME SOMEONE TO TELL ME WHO TO SAVE.** "

"Amazing!" Nieven remarked.

"Oh, it's nothing really," Yomada said with false modesty.

"Not you, the gauntlet."

"Oh, right, of course. Anyway. I have brought you the deputy chief of police, the only remaining policeman in the village. You were created to aid them serve justice. Let him direct you now."

" **HE IS ACCEPTABLE.** "

Ariadne's arm slumped and the Golden Hand fell to the floor. The girl took a step backwards and fell to her knees. As Nieven rushed to her to make sure she was OK, Norman slowly approached the gauntlet. He bent over to pick it up and slid it onto his fist. It didn't take full control of his body like it had done with Ariadne. He was still able to move freely and his eyes glowed a fierce gold.

" **I AM THE PROTECTOR OF DONREGAN. THEY ARE ALL SAFE NOW.** "

Norman removed the gauntlet and placed it on the ground, his eyes returned to normal.

"Well that should do it I reckon. Quite handy actually, if you'll excuse the pun. We should probably go back topside, there's a lot of confused people who need taking care off. And I need to explain to the chief why I haven't been to work for six months."

The group was shocked by Norman's nonchalant behaviour towards saving the village, but half a year's worth of potions will do that to you (9). Nieven led them back to the police station, levitating the Golden Hand a few feet in front so no one else had to touch it. When they emerged from the basement, they were greeted by the pointy ends of half a dozen swords and crossbows. The police officers lowered their weapons in embarrassment when they realised who they were pointing them at. Norman started to explain what had happened to the chief of police, but was ignored when Ariadne ran to her father and flung her arms around him. Nieven, Cluym and Yomada sneaked out whilst no one was looking and returned to the tavern.

There was rather a large crowd standing outside. When the villagers reappeared, they all returned to the spot they had disappeared from. Quite a few had left it a little too late to get their daily potion and had vanished in front of the tavern. Nieven cast a spell that made his voice echo around the village. As he gave instructions to the villagers, members of the Order of the Red started arriving to help carry out Nieven's orders. In the middle of the commotion, one of the wizards secreted the Golden Hand away in order to hide and protect it.

It was a long evening. The village was in a bad shape. A large percentage of the houses had been damaged, either in the initial panic or by the looting kobolds. Families set about clearing rooms, those whose houses were no longer habitable tried to find lodging with whoever had space. Temporary shelters were set up throughout the village. Without farmers tending crops and taking care of livestock, the food supplies had become woefully low. The Order of the Red was able to conjure enough food for the village, but they knew this could only be a temporary solution. There was a long road ahead to rebuilding the village.

Yomada helped in the only way the bard knew how. Gentle harp music filled the streets, laced with subtle magical tones that lifted spirits and aided in the hard work. Yomada also recounted the heroic deeds that had saved the village. Dumir's bravery in the face of extreme terrors. Grok's valiant fights against oncoming hordes. Elan fearlessly leading the charge. Norman's potential self-sacrifice to save Ariadne. Cluym's… occasional help (10)? And all of them led by the noble Yomada of course.

As night fell, Nieven made an announcement. In honour of her outstanding work in supporting the village during the crisis, he made Rosmerta the new head of the Order. As his final act, he carried out the High Priestess of Tor's request. He produced two bags, each containing a large amount of silver and one or two valuable gemstones, and gave them to Yomada and Cluym for services rendered. He then thanked them from the bottom of his heart for their help in saving the village.

And so, our bumbling yet successful duo spent the night in Donregan as heroes. Their motivations had been self-preservation and greed, but nevertheless they had saved the village. Heroes have to start somewhere after all. But their story was only just beginning, and they had much greater trials on the road ahead. After all, there was still the mystery of who had turned the skeletons in the prison. That, however, is a story for another time (11).

1 A great many magical spells require a material component to cast them. These are usually inexpensive things like a pinch of ash, a small pebble or a dried leaf. Some spells require more expensive components, precious gemstones which the spell converts into raw magical power. Bringing someone back from the dead is not common, mostly due to morality, but also due to the high cost associated with it. Cluym didn't have the necessary components when he tried to cast the spell, so the wild magical energies drew power from whatever they could. Anything of value that he had been wearing or holding had been consumed by the spell. Even the ring of locating.

2 It's not often in arguments that being classed as currently alive is a necessary technicality.

3 Actually, Yomada found it reasonably interesting. Being a dwarf came in useful when you were stuck between two people with only stones to look at.

4 This turned out to work too well. Dumir was also frightened by the noise and started to run off. He had to be coaxed back by Yomada with assurances that there weren't any other creatures nearby.

5 Five foot may seem a bit specific, and also not very impressive for a creature designed to frighten. The reason for this is unnecessarily complicated. In our world, a great many things in nature are linked with the number pi. Circles are a perfect example of this. Pi is a fundamental number in the creation of our universe. When the gods made **this** universe, they made things easier by making five foot a fundamental length for magic. Most magical spells had effects in multiples of five feet. This made maths a much easier subject to teach.

6 Strange things can happen when powerful enough magic is poured into an object. The item can seem to take on a life of its own and, very occasionally, can even develop intelligence. If you find a magical item that talks it's usually best to leave it alone, and you certainly shouldn't touch it.

7 He was right, he couldn't. The potion made sure of that.

8 You caught me, I skipped the travelling again. Nothing happened on the way, honest.

9 They also have a slight laxative effect. If side effects persist for more than a week, see your local Cleric.

10 Necromancy is not looked upon kindly, advertising it in song was not a good idea.

11 Or as I like to call it, Chapter 5.


End file.
